Ryde Or Die - Ruff Ryders, L.O.X., DMX

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 yall 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

Thats how ice be, Im priceless, the iciest

And I dont gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chest

My bullets thump when Im 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, ima have her stuffin my bricks

Jada, if I kiss you now, youll 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 yall shit, then listen to our shit

Aint nuttin yall faggots could do but gossip

Thats the reason now yall niggaz aint got shit

Cause everytime I turn around yall on the l.o.x.

dick

Niggaz thats narrow, I just smack em wit the barrel

Give it to em at the light, like kanes cousin harold

Chorus: repeat 4x

The ruff ryders!

(what?) the ruff ryders

Fuck you and your son, yall low wit the scum

Show me the money, Ill show you a gun, motherfucker

Spll 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

Yall niggaz aint sayin shit until yall bare weapons

And even when you dead, you can still fuckin get it A nigga thatll smack ya, fuck around and clap ya Styles p., your favorite rappers 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, Im hot scorchin

Keep the block roastin

Light a dutch wit the flames comin, toastin

In my eyes you could see what summers holdin

Realizin, every guy Ill 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 Im 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 yall like half-ass dude

And we are one whole, and yall niggaz is one slash two

My gun blast you, tryna out the flames, whatre you, firemen?

Youll 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, lets 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 aint 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