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582 3 часа назад

Текст песни Drag-On - Ryde or Die

Drag-On - Ryde or Die слова песни




[Sheek]Yo if gon` sleep on somethin, might as well be a bedAnd if you gon` crack a nigga, might as well be a headCause if you targettin the L.O.X.You might as as well target a boxThat you gon` sleep in for years, all covered wit rocksCause I think not, I pop shots, I double what y`all gotYa hotshots aint got blocks, ya punta muchachaFrom the days in school, now a motherfucker ruleAnd I could drop my chain in court, yeah, keeps ya coolThat`s how ice be, I`m priceless, the iciestAnd I dont gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chestMy bullets thump when I`m laced in some fly shit, punkThe baby nine be on the daily, aint no poppin a trunkBut if I pop the trunk, its to hand you a ragSo you can wipe down the windows on the side of my JagMust I brag? My shit paid for, yours taggedAnd every bitch you grabbed, Sheek bend em back[Jadakiss]Ayo I hope you aint tongue-kissin your spouseCause I be fuckin her in the mouthType of nigga buck at your houseToo slick, means she be suckin my dickAnd before you know it, I`ma have her stuffin my bricksJada, if I kiss you now, you`ll die laterI been nice since niggaz was watchin movies on BetaReady to clap, everybody givin me gatsCause believe it or not, we be the ones settin the trapsYou listen to y`all shit, then listen to our shitAin`t nuttin y`all faggots could do but gossipThat`s the reason now y`all niggaz ain`t got shitCause everytime I turn around y`all on the L.O.X. dickNiggaz thats narrow, I just smack em wit the barrelGive it to em at the light, like Kane`s cousin HaroldChorus: repeat 4XThe Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders[Styles]Fuck you and your son, y`all low wit the scumShow me the money, I`ll show you a gun, motherfuckerSP`ll spin the corner while you parle` with dunI clap you, I clap him, and thats rule number oneSuckin my dick, and I dont give a fuck what you spitWho you are, where you from, and who the fuck you can getCause I sell records, plus I got a jail recordY`all niggaz ain`t sayin shit until y`all bare weaponsAnd even when you dead, you can still fuckin get itA nigga that`ll smack ya, fuck around and clap yaStyles P., your favorite rapper`s favorite rapper[Eve]Aint no surprise niggaz, only fuck wit recognized niggazBabygirl want the world, gave ya pies niggazNo tops, take em in all shape and size niggazNo lie, prefer them ready do or die niggazWhat? 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 sugarSuck 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 oftenComma, burnin niggas oftenThey call me Drag-On, I`m hot scorchinKeep the block roastinLight a dutch wit the flames comin, toastinIn my eyes you could see what summer`s holdinRealizin, every guy I`ll fry or dead rowdyI burn to a degree of 130, and my gun dirtyCause it got one bury, so you better run, hurryOr catch one earlyYou wrong, tryin to touch me, what type of shit you on? You better through your boots on and your unflammable suits onCause I`m comin through wit a YukonBlack tinted wit gats in itCatch you while you smokin, send your casket, throw the sack in itBut only half of it, cause y`all like half-ass dudeAnd we are one whole, and y`all niggaz is one slash twoMy gun blast you, tryna out the flames, what`re you, firemen?You`ll catch a hell of a backdraftcause my fire retirin, aight then[DMX]Its my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the waterEveryday I show another how a I love a slaughterFlood your daughter, full of more holes than spurgesTaxin businessmen for stocks over lunchesWit these, I shoot the breeze, and extortEnough keys from the Cuban, to build a fuckin fortCaught up in somethin that I cant controlTryna get a hold of a bankroll, let`s roleCatch bodies like a cold, and I stay slick so face itMake me chase it, I take your life and erase itWaste it, in the fuckin streets cause it ain`t worth shitThe undertaker take your ass under the earth quick, ILove money, but the scrambles hotSo i snatch up my man and the gamblin spotTwenty grand is got, one niggaz shot, one nigga lessWhat used to be his chest is now a mess under his fuckin vest

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