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Ryde Or Die
Ruff Ryders, L.O.X., DMX, Drag-On, Eve
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Ride or die, nigga
What? This is it right here
You ain't know?
Huh, man, hah
Huh, man
What? Yo-yo-yo-yo
Ayo, if you gonna sleep on something, might as well be a bed
And if you gonna crack a nigga, might as well be ahead
'Cause if you target the LOX, you might as well target a box
That you gon' sleep in for years all covered with 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 don't 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 popping 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 shit paid for, yours tagged
And every bitch you grabbed, sheek been done bagged
Ayo, I hope you ain't tongue-kissing your spouse
'Cause I be fucking her in the mouth
Type of nigga buck at your house
Too slick, means she be sucking my dick
And before you know it, I'ma have her stuffing my bricks
Jada, if I kiss you now, you die later
I been nice since niggas was watching movies on Beta
Ready to clap, everybody giving me daps
'Cause believe it or not, be the ones setting the traps
You listen to y'all shit, then listen to our shit
Ain't nothing y'all faggots could do but gossip
That's the reason now y'all niggas ain't got shit
'Cause every time I turn around, y'all on the LOX dick
Niggas that's narrow, I just smack 'em with the barrel
Give it to 'em at the light like Caine's cousin Harold
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
Man, fuck you and your son, y'all lower than scum
Show me the money, I'll show you a gun, motherfucker
S-P'll spin the corner while you parle' with dun
I clap you, I clap him and that's rule number one
Sucking my dick and I don't 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 saying shit until y'all bare weapons
And even when you dead, you can still fucking get it
A nigga that'll smack ya, fuck around and clap ya
Styles P., your favorite rapper's favorite rapper
Ain't no surprise, niggas
Only fuck with recognized niggas
Baby girl want the world, gave ya pies niggas
No ties, take 'em in all shapes and size niggas
No lie, prefer them ready do or die niggas
What? What you want? Cutie staring at me like
"Damn, where you from?" You be coming at me like
"Can I get some?" Lick your lips for this brown sugar
Suck me like a thumb if you want 'til I cum, uh
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, burning niggas often
They call me Drag-On, I'm hot scorching
Keep the block roasting
Light a dutch with the flames coma-toasting
In my eyes you could see what summer's holding
Realizing every guy I'll fry or dead ride
I burn to a degree of one thirty, my gun dirty
'Cause it got one buried
So you better run, hurry or catch one early
You wrong, trying to touch me
What type of shit you on?
You better throw your boots on
And your unflammable suits on
'Cause I'm coming through in a Yukon
Black tinted with gots in it
Catch you while you smoking
Send your casket, throw the sack in it
But only half of it, 'cause y'all are half-ass duke
And we are one whole, and y'all niggas is one slash two
My gun blast you, trying to out the flames
What're they, firemen?
You'll catch a hell of a back draft
'Cause my fire retire men (alright then)
It's my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the water (what?)
Every day, I show another how I love a slaughter (what?)
Plug your daughter, full of more holes than sponges (uh)
Taxing businessmen for stocks over lunches (come on)
With these, I shoot the breeze, and extort
Enough kids from the Cuban to build a fucking fort (what?)
Caught up in something that I can't control
Trying to get a hold of a bankroll that's swoll
Catching bodies like a cold (uh) and I stay sick, so face it (uh)
Make me chase it, I take your life and erase it (what?)
Waste it, in the fucking streets
'Cause it ain't worth shit (come on)
The undertaker take your ass under the earth quick, I (come on)
Love money, but the scrambling's shot (uh)
So I snatch up my man and hit the gambling spot (uh)
Twenty grand has got, one nigga shot is one nigga less
What used to be his chest is now a mess under his fucking vest
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