Dmx - Ryde or Die lyrics

Yo, if you gonna sleep on something Might as well be a bed And if your gonna crack a n***a Might as well be a head 'Cause if you targeting the LOX you might as well target a box That you gonna sleep in for years all covered with rocks 'Cause I think not I pop shots I double what y'all got Ya hot shots and got blocks ya punta muchacha I'm the days of school I mother f**ing rule I drive my chain and cork ya and keep it cool That's the ice B. I'm pricrless. The iciest And I don't gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chest My bullets thump when I lace this fly sh** pump And baby I be on it yearly ain't no poppin' the trunk But if I, pop the trunk its to hear your rag sh** just wipe down my windows,on the side of my jag Must I brag, my sh** paid for, yours tagged And every chick you grab, Sheek been done bagged Yo, I hope you ain't tongue kissing your spouse 'Cause I be f**in' her in her mouth Type of cat that f** at your house Too slick? Mean she be s**in' my dick And before you know it, I'mma have her s**in' my dick Jada, if I kiss you now, you die later Been nice, since n***az was watchin' movies on beta Ready to clap, everybody giving me dap And belive it or not, we be the ones setting the trap Listen to y'all sh**. Then listen to our sh** Ain't nothing y'all cowards could do, got this That's the reason now, y'all players ain't got sh** 'Cause every time I turn around, y'all on the lox dick For those that's narrow, I just smack them with the barrel Give it to them after night, like Kains cousin Harold [Chorus] The Ruff Rifers (what?) The Ruff Riders The Ruff Rifers (what?) The Ruff Riders The Ruff Rifers (what?) The Ruff Riders The Ruff Rifers (what?) The Ruff Riders f** you and your son Ya know when its done Show me the money, I show you a gun Mother f**er! SB'll spin corner while I party with dun I clap you I clap him, and that's rule number one s**in' my dick And I don't give a f** what you spit Who you are, where you from, and who the f** you can get 'Cause I sell records, and I got a jail record Ya n***as ain't sayin' sh** till y'all bare weapons And even when your dead, you can still f** and get it I ride about and smack you, co*k back and clap you Styles be ya favorite rappers favorite rapper Ain't no surprise n***as, only run with recognized n***as Baby girl, want the world? Sugar pie n***as No tops, take em in all shape and size n***as No lie, prefer them ready do or die n***as What, what you want Cutie starin' at me like "Damn, where you from?" You be comin' at me, like "Can I get some?" Lick your lips from this brown sugar s** me like a thumb if you want till I cum I be the D are, A G, dash O N Slash often comma makin' n***as orphan They call me Drag-On. I'm hot scortchin' Keep the block roastin' Like dutch when the flame comes a toastin' In my eyes you can see what summers holdin' Realize, any guy, broad day, rider I burn to a degree of 130 my gun dirty 'Cause I got one burby, so you better run hurry Or catch one early You wrong, tryin' to touch me What type of sh** you on? You better throw your boots on, and your un-flameable suits on 'Cause I'm comin' through in a Yukon Black tinted with gats in it Catch you while you smokin', send your casket with a sack in it Gats only half of it 'Cause y'all are half a** yo 'Cause we one whole and y'all n***as, is one slash two My gun blast you Tryin out the flames. Are your firemen? And catch one hell of a back draft, 'Cause my fire reach higher than Its 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 With more holes than swiss cheese (come on) Attack the b**h and stop for the leach (come on) With these, I shoot the breeze And its thought, enough keys from the cubans to build a f**ing fort (what) I'm caught up in something that I can't control Trying to get a hold of a bank role and stroll Catch bodies like a cold. And stay sick (uh) So face it, make me chase it, I take your life and erase it (what) Waste it, in the f**ing streets 'Cause It ain't worth sh**(come on) The undertaker take your a** under the earth (come on) Quicker, I love money, but the scam is hot (uh) So I snatch up my man and hit the gambling spot (uh) 20 grand is got, one shot and you got less What use to his chest, is a mess under his f**ing vest.