Dirty rotten scoundrel  that's what I'm called  on the street
 Could connive and cheat but rarely get beat
 Ya see I'm streetwise  a con game pro
 Kickin the Bobby bullshit  too smart for Willie Bobo
 Not stressin five o  hot hand in celo
 Live in the land of crooks yes Brooklyn's the borough
 Homicide central  East New York
 Where the manic  depressive psycho murderers stalk
 Walk  like a ninja, on the asphalt
 Here talk is cheap, you're outlined in chalk
 And there's more hardtimes, than on Good Times
 And most niggaz dedicate their life to crime
 So I'm steady schemin, won't work for a dime
 Used to get, tax free loot, all the time
 Type slick can't fess on 'Ru, because

 Verse Two:

 Before trains were graffiti proof I used to get loose
 Dirty rotten since the days of the deuce
 Dirty, because of the skin I'm in
 The fact I have melanin automatically makes me a felon
 Even though I'm righteous, rotten's what you're yellin
 But I'm not chain-snatchin, or drug-sellin
 According to your books you said I would be damned like Ham
 Scoundrel opposite of the king that I am
 But wanna get funny, we can get bummy
 Take you to the East and back again money
 Filthy putrified trick, step past your sister
 Challenge the Damaja, and you'll be history
 Mortal Kombat fatality, the original don't sing no R&B
 Nasty MC deity
 Chop off domes with the poems that come out of my pin-eal
 gland, as I expand, you know who I am

 Verse Three:

 Father of all stylin, I be whylin on wax
 We hack shit up like big ax and little ax
 Don't need tokes to make you jump like bungee
 Tracks real muddy, like Brooklyn's real grungy
 When I come through I clog up your sewer
 Peep the maneuveur, drop the ill manure
 So bring Mr. Clean, Drano, and Roto Rooter
 No matter what you do, you can't get through the
 Crud that comes out of your system
 You're another victim, of dirty rotten
 Dirt up, in your grill, so what ya gonna do
 But pay homage to