Ride Or Die (the Ruff Ryders) Lyrics
[Sheek] Yo if gon' sleep on somethin, might as well be a bed And if you
gon' crack a nigga, 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 aint got blocks, ya punta muchacha From the days in
school, now a motherfucker 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 dont
gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chest My bullets thump when I'm laced
in some fly shit, punk The baby nine be on the daily, aint no poppin a
trunk But if I pop the trunk, its to hand you a rag So you can wipe down
the windows on the side of my Jag Must I brag? My shit paid for, yours
tagged And every bitch you grabbed, Sheek bend em
back
[Jadakiss] Ayo I hope you aint tongue-kissin your
spouse Cause I be fuckin her in the mouth Type of nigga 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 shit, then listen to our shit Ain't nuttin
y'all faggots could do but gossip That's the reason now y'all niggaz ain't
got shit 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 Harold
Chorus: repeat 4X
The Ruff Ryders!
(What?) The Ruff Ryders
[Styles] Fuck you and your son, y'all low wit
the scum Show me the money, I'll show you a gun, motherfucker SP'll spin
the corner while you parle' with dun I clap you, I clap him, and thats rule
number one Suckin my dick, and I dont give a fuck what you spit Who you
are, where you from, and who the fuck you can get Cause I sell records, plus
I got a jail record Y'all niggaz ain't sayin shit until y'all bare
weapons And even when you dead, you can still fuckin get it A nigga
that'll smack ya, fuck around and clap ya Styles P., your favorite rapper's
favorite rapper
[Eve] Aint no surprise niggaz, only fuck wit
recognized niggaz Babygirl 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 come,
uh
-Chorus-
[Drag-On] I be the D-R, A-G, dash O-N, slash
often Comma, burnin niggas 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 shit 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-ass
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, aight then
[DMX] Its my, survival
instinct that keeps my head above the water Everyday I show another how a I
love a 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 fuckin
fort Caught up in somethin that I cant 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 Waste it, in the
fuckin streets cause it ain't worth shit The undertaker take your ass under
the earth quick, I Love money, but the scrambles hot So i snatch up my
man and the gamblin spot Twenty grand is got, one niggaz shot, one nigga
less What used to be his chest is now a mess under his fuckin vest
|