Ryde Or Die
(专辑: Ryde Or Die Vol. 1 - 1999)
Ryde or die, nigga! [Sheek Louch:] Yo if you 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 target the
LOX 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, ya puta muchacha From the
days in school, now a
motherfucker rule Enough to drop my chain in coffee and keep shit 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, ain't 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 been done bagged [Jadakiss:] Hey yo I
hope you ain't 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'mma have her stuffin my bricks Jada, if I
kiss you now, you'll die later I
been nice since niggas was watchin movies on Beta Ready to clap, everybody givin me daps Cause believe it or not, we be the
ones settin the
traps 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 niggas ain't got shit Cause everytime I
turn around y'all on the
LOX dick Niggas thats narrow, I
just smack em wit the
barrel Give it to em at the
light, like Caine's cousin Harold [Chorus:] 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 [Styles P:] Fuck you and your son, y'all lower than scum Show me the
money, I'll show you a
gun, motherfucker S-P will 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 could get Cause I
sell records, plus I
got a
jail record Y'all niggas 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:] Ain't no surprise niggas, only fuck wit recognized niggas Babygirl want the
world, gave ya pies niggas No tops, take em in all shapes and size niggas No lie, prefer them ready do or die niggas 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 me like a
thumb, if you want, til I
come, uh [Chorus:] 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 [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 coma-toasting In my eyes you could see what summer's holdin Realizin, every guy I'll fry or dead ride I
burn to a
degree of 130, and my gun dirty Cause it got one buried, so you better run, hurry Or catch one early You wrong, tryin to touch me, what type of shit you on? You better throw your boots on and your unflammable suits on Cause I'm comin through in 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 are half-ass dude And we are one whole, and y'all niggas is one slash two My gun blast you, tryna out the
flames, what're they, firemen? You'll catch a
hell of a
backdraft Cause my fire retire men (aight then) [DMX:] Its my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the
water Everyday I
show another how I
love a
slaughter Plug your daughter, full of more holes than sponges Taxin businessmen for stocks over lunches With these, I
shoot the
breeze, and extort Enough ki's from the
Cuban, to build a
fuckin fort Caught up in somethin that I
can't control Tryna get a
hold of a
bankroll that's swoll Catching bodies like a
cold, and I
stay sick 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
scramblin's hot So I
snatch up my man and hit the
gamblin spot Twenty grand has got, one nigga shot, one nigga less What used to be his chest is now a
mess under his fucking vest