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Ryde Or Die Lyrics

Album/Collection: Ryde Or Die Vol.1
Online Since: 07-Nov-2002
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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 

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 

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 

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 


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 

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 

Ryde Or Die Lyrics

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