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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet.. The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to Dirt Off Your Shoulder
You are about to report that the lyrics to Dirt Off Your Shoulder By JAY-Z From the album The Black Album as Mostly Correct, yet..., If this is what you want to do, You may fix the lyric in the boxes (populated for you) You might want to leave a comment with that too (optional) then click the submit, All fields are optional.
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Lyric Body	You're now tuned into the muh'fuckin greatest Turn the music up in the headphones Tim, you can go and brush your shoulder off nigga I got you, yeah [Chorus: Jay-Z] If you feelin like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off Ladies is pimps too, go and brush your shoulders off Niggaz is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you Get, that, dirt off your shoulder [Verse One] I probably owe it to y'all, proud to be locked by the force Tryin to hustle some things, that go with the Porsche Feelin no remorse, feelin like my hand was forced Middle finger to the law, nigga grip'n my balls All the ladies they love me, from the bleachers they screamin All the ballers is bouncin they like the way I be leanin All the rappers be hatin, off the track that I'm makin But all the hustlers they love it just to see one of us make it Came from the bottom the bottom, to the top of the pots Nigga London, Japan and I'm straight off the block Like a running back, get it man, I'm straight off the block I can run it back nigga cause I'm straight with the Roc [Chorus] [Chorus Two] You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder [Verse Two] Your homey Hov' in position, in the kitchen with soda I just whipped up a watch, tryin to get me a Rover Tryin to stretch out the coca, like a wrestler, yessir Keep the Heckler close, you know them smokers'll test ya But like, fifty-two cards when I'm, I'm through dealin Now fifty-two bars come out, now you feel 'em Now, fifty-two cars roll out, remove ceiling In case fifty-two broads come out, now you chillin with a boss bitch of course S.C. on the sleeve At the 40/40 club, ESPN on the screen I paid a grip for the jeans, plus the slippers is clean No chrome on the wheels, I'm a grown-up for real [Chorus + Chorus Two] [Verse Three] Your boy back in the building, Brooklyn we back on the map Me and my beautiful beeeeeeeitch in the back of that 'Bach I'm the realest that run it, I just happen to rap I ain't gotta clap at 'em, niggaz scared of that black I drop that +Black, Album+ then I back, out it As the best rapper alive nigga ask about me From Bricks to Billboards, from grams to Grammys The O's to opposite, Orphan Annie You gotta pardon Jay, for sellin out the Garden in a day I'm like a young Marvin in his hey' I'm a hustler homey, you a customer crony Got some, dirt on my shoulder, could you brush it off for me? [Chorus + Chorus Two] You're now tuned into the muh'fuckin greatest Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
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