Ryde Or Die (Album Version|Explicit)-Ruff Ryders

Ryde Or Die (Album Version|Explicit)

歌手:Ruff Ryders

时间:1999-01-01

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Yo if gon' sleep on somethin', might as well be a bed

And if you gon' crack a ni**a, might as well be a head

'Cause if you targettin' the L.O.X., you might as as well target a box

That you gon' sleep in' for years, all covered wit rocks

'Cause I think not, I pop shots, I double what y'all got

Ya hotshots ain't got blocks, Tu Puta Muchacha

From the days in school, now a motherf**ker rule

And I could drop my chain in court, yeah, keeps ya cool

That's how ice be, I'm priceless, the iciest

And I don't gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chest

My bullets thump when I'm laced in some fly sh*t, punk

The baby nine be on the daily, ain't no poppin' a trunk

But if I pop the trunk, it's to hand you a rag

So you can wipe down the windows on the side of my Jag

Must I brag? My sh*t paid for, yours tagged

And every b**ch you grabbed, Sheek bend 'em back

Ayo I hope you ain't tongue-kissin' your spouse

'Cause I be f**kin' her in the mouth

Type of ni**a buck at your house

Too slick, means she be suckin' my dick

And before you know it, I'ma have her stuffin' my bricks

Jada, if I kiss you now, you'll die later

I been nice since niggaz was watchin' movies on Beta

Ready to clap, everybody givin' me gats

'Cause believe it or not, we be the ones settin' the traps

You listen to y'all sh*t, then listen to our sh*t

That's the reason now y'all niggaz ain't got sh*t

Ain't nuttin' y'all faggots could do but gossip

'Cause everytime I turn around y'all on the L.O.X. dick

Niggaz thats narrow, I just smack em wit the barrel

Give it to 'em at the light, like Kane's cousin Abel

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

F**k you and your son, y'all low wit the scum

Show me the money, I'll show you a gun, motherf**ker

SP'll spin the corner while you prolly within'

I clap you, I clap him, and that's rule number one

Suckin' my dick, and I don't give a f**k what you spit

Who you are, where you from, and who the f**k you can get

'Cause I sell records, plus I got a jail record

Y'all niggaz ain't sayin' sh*t until y'all bare weapons

And even when you dead, you can still f**kin' get it

A ni**a that'll smack ya, f**k around and clap ya

Styles P, your favorite rapper's favorite rapper

Ain't no surprise niggaz, only f**k wit recognized niggaz

Baby girl want the world, gave ya pies niggaz

No tops, take em in' all shape and size niggaz

No lie, prefer them ready do or die niggaz

What? What you want? Cutey starin' at me like

"Damn, where you from?"

You be comin' at me like"Can I get some?"

Lick your lips for this brown sugar

Suck mine like a thumb, if you want, 'til I cum, uhh

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

The Ruff Ryders, what? The Ruff Ryders

I be the D R, A G, dash O N, slash often comma, burnin' niggaz often

They call me Drag-On, I'm hot scorchin'

Keep the block roastin' light a dutch wit the flames comin', toastin'

In my eyes you could see what summer's holdin'

Realizin', every guy I'll fry or dead rowdy

I burn to a degree of 130, and my gun dirty

'Cause it got one bury, so you better run

Hurry or catch one early

You wrong, tryin' to touch me, what type of sh*t you on?

You better through your boots on and your unflammable suits on

'Cause I'm comin' through wit a Yukon Black tinted wit gats in it

Catch you while you smokin', send your casket, throw the sack in it

But only half of it, 'cause y'all like half-a** dude

And we are one whole, and y'all niggaz is one slash two

My gun blast you, tryna out the flames, what're you, firemen?

You'll catch a hell of a Backdraft 'cause my fire retirin', alright then

It's my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the water

Everyday I show another how a lover slaughter

Flood your daughter, full of more holes than spurges

Taxin' businessmen for stocks over lunches

Wit these, I shoot the breeze, and extort

Enough keys from the Cuban, to build a f**kin' fort

Caught up in somethin' that I can't control

Tryna get a hold of a bankroll, let's role

Catch bodies like a cold, and I stay slick so face it

Make me chase it, I take your life and erase it

Wasted, in the f**kin' streets 'cause it ain't worth sh*t

The undertaker take your a** under the earth quicker

I love money, but the scrambles hot

So I snatch up my man and the gamblin' spot

Twenty grand is got, when niggaz shot, one ni**a less

What used to be his chest is now a mess under his f**kin' vest

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