[Intro: D-Lo]

Ayy, Work, nigga, what's happenin'?

It's your nigga D-Lo, bruh

Ah, D-Lo, look, D-Lo, ah

[Verse 1: D-Lo]

I just seen death in front of my eyes but I escaped that shit again

Just put a tuck spot in the rental 'cause I can't go back to the pen

I was slippin', how the fuck I let him shoot me in my head, man?

Shh, I'm speakin' thoughts from a dead man

Can't take this money with me to my grave so I'ma fuck it off

My lil' nigga sick, put him on a lick, but he trucked it off

I'm speakin' all facts, nigga, I don't fuck with rats, nigga

Ask the sucker side how we slid and hit that fat nigga

I'm a pimp, baby girl, I could never make it rain on you

BackPage gone, man, I really got some game for your

Bounced out of jail without a dollar, now I'm like fifty up

All these Glocks, man, it took me thirty minutes to load this fifty up

Told my mama don't trip, finna buy you that whip

But first I gotta check this dough before I fire this bitch

Got the devil on my ass, I can't let him stop these blessings, look

Fightin' off this monkey, sippin' syrup, I was stressin'

[Chorus: Work Dirty]

Out the mud, you know I had to get it out the mud

I'm stressin' so I'm prayin' for my blessing from above

See where I'm from, for sure gotta keep some' on me

Never ride by my lonely, steady gangin' with the brodies

Out the mud, you know I had to get it out the mud

Bippin' whips and flippin' zips, you know we got it off the plug

Out the mud, yeah I got it out the mud

I'm from the gutter, yeah I'm comin' out the mud, yeah

[Verse 2: Work Dirty]

Welcome home to my nigga, brodie, the streets miss you

Seen you free on that 'Gram, I had to come and get you

Some of them smiles, they be suckers, they'd rather see you down

I keep my cleats to this gravel and I stay on the mound

Treat these bullets like flyers, I'm quick to pass 'em out

Overdose they brain with this game until they passin' out

Fat nigga with so much swag, don't ask me how

I really play with trap money, they just rap about

You don't know nothin' 'bout my struggle, these shoes don't fit at all (They don't)

Niggas'll sell they soul to Satan for a chance to ball (They will)

Four years of stuntin' and flashin' cash on the 'Gram

Then get on the stand and point they hands at they man

All this liquor consumption got me emotional (For real)

I got PTSD from the streets, I'm ready for war (I'm ready for war)

I'm from Magazine Street, bro, I'm trained to go

I keep sticks like a hobo, you better know

We call our mamas and baby mamas to post that bail

Then call 'em bitches, and all of our shit put 'em through hell

I know you cried when your daddy put his hands on her

Then you turn around and cause the same pain, homie

Contradictions in situations, always conflicting

Then you post that picture, you a real nigga

I seen real niggas take the last from they kids

Then go to Applebee's, with a new bitch

[Chorus: Work Dirty]

Out the mud, you know I had to get it out the mud

I'm stressin' so I'm prayin' for my blessing from above

See where I'm from, for sure gotta keep some' on me

Never ride by my lonely, steady gangin' with the brodies

Out the mud, you know I had to get it out the mud

Bippin' whips and flippin' zips, you know we got it off the plug

Out the mud, yeah I got it out the mud

I'm from the gutter, yeah I'm comin' out the mud, yeah

[Outro: Work Dirty]

Out the mud, yeah yeah

Out the mud, yeah yeah

Out the mud, yeah yeah

Hmm

Out the mud, yeah yeah

Said out the mud, yeah yeah

Out the mud, yeah yeah