Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Free Dirt’ by 42 Dugg. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 42 Dugg or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Thirteen thou’, let me clear my tab
I ain’t f*ck the first time, bitch, well, my bad
I don’t like talkin’ ’bout shit that we did
A bitch stop postin’ them niggas we killed
Bitch, we sell pills, bitch, and take drill
Out a hundred of ’em, fifty of ’em ain’t real
If he don’t sniff this, then his ass can’t smell
Who can move a thou’? Lil’ bruh, I can’t tell
I’ll put this bitch on whoever, free Dirt
‘Fore you f*ck Cheese, bitch, f*ck me first
Pull up in the slee, eight cups full of syrup
Real mud brothers, bitch, shout out Lil Stirrup
Used to have that two-five chrome with the pearl
Ever since Drew died, big four-five
Glock ten milli’ throw a six-four blind
That bitch, yeah, that bitch mine
Phone won’t ring ‘less it’s six-one-five
Probably want beans, shit, he probably want tan
Hope you want lean, I’ma show ’em how to dance
Even if he want Gotti, I’ma send a lil’ bands
Wanted for a body, might as well keep goin’
This week, I’m trappin’, spent last week tourin’
Corner house slappin’, pink Runtz transformin’
Used to be a killer, well, now he informin’
Bitch, you a rat, rat
Probably told on Reek, probably told on App
All my hoes on fleek, you’d tell by they bags
He ain’t with me, how you know he had a mask?
Bitch, I’m in my bag, better ask your nigga
Them pics he be likin’, them the hoes I’m hittin’
Big 4s, I’m him, all winter, black Timbs
Can’t show a nigga shit but how to run up Ms
Nigga, thirteen thou’, let me clear my tab
I ain’t f*ck the first time, bitch, well, my bad
I don’t like talkin’ ’bout shit that we did
A bitch stop postin’ them niggas we killed
Bitch, we sell pills, bitch, and take drill
Out a hundred of ’em, fifty of ’em ain’t real
If he don’t sniff this, then his ass can’t smell
Who can move a thou’? Lil’ bruh, I can’t tell
Bitch, you a rat (hoe), rat (hoe)
Probably told on me, probably told on App
Parole hold on Dirt, spend whatever to get him back
Like twelve in the dirt y’all ain’t never gettin’ back
Crack a seal on the purp’, name a nigga sellin’ that
He ain’t fuckin’ with me, bitch, tell a hoe to tell him that
Me and my niggas get it done, get it done
Want the keys to my heart? Show a bitch who ain’t a bum
Want the keys to the car? Cop a bag and get a run
I survive in the slums
Mini Draco, AK with the drum (bitch)
All blue digits, might just wear ’em for a month
Freaky lil’ bitch, she gon’ suck it ’til I cum
I ain’t tippin’ shit, rather spend it on my son
I blew off thirty on somebody just for fun
If they ain’t really have to squeeze, what they doin’ with us?
Knowin’ he not whackin’, bitch, quit tellin’ me it’s up
Ayy, niggas be cappin’, niggas be bitches
Niggas be rappin’, really, niggas be finished
Thirteen thou’, let me clear my tab
I ain’t f*ck the first time, bitch, well, my bad
I don’t like talkin’ ’bout shit that we did
A bitch stop postin’ them niggas we killed
Bitch, we sell pills, bitch, we take drill