Styles P - Eastside Ryders lyrics

[Tray Deee] Who run these streets? Love Thug Beats? Ruff Spoken, Guns Speak, Blood Leak Lug heat for the threat not protection Not a question, Busta Tests I got rest 'em Catch 'Em Slippin, in the hood or the mall You ain't strapped, we can scrap, I'm good with the Doggs f** Talkin', Chuck Walkin' in my khakis Rag Swangin', Gang Bangin' n***a brang it at me Eastsider, Ruff Ryder loved by the ma**es We The n***as holla out the set when we blastin' Insane 20 gang, anything k**a Tracy Davis, Hair Raises, Goldie Loc The Stealer Gang Lock Down, We Can't Stop Now Get in the way of villan and Tray spray hot rounds s**as chose thuggin' as a last resort, ain't that a b**h? Here we do this sh** for sport This CRIP [Tray Deee] Chorus: We ridaz, keep the heat beside us Better Not try us, Touch ya like Midas Ruff Rydaz, Ride with Eastsidaz Bustaz bow down to crown, the Royal Highness Well we gonna take your raps, and gats, stacks and sacks Dippin with the Jags and 'Lacs Eastsidaz roll with Ruff Rydaz Try to step aside us or get right behind us [Styles] When I die, f** a moment of silence, this is Holiday Gangsta rap gunnin' and havin' moments of violence Its an Eastsider, Ruff Ryder thing, Why you mad at me? Holdin on an AK, puffin' on some Cali weed Streets is my girl, asked her to marry me Yellow and Purple Ears, tryin' to see Shaq's Salary D-Block Gang, Ruff Ryder Mafia Make Sure the bullets hit u cause I stand on top of ya Bounce like I'm Hydrolics (Hydrolics) And I got n***as in the hood that would shoot you over nine dollars Asked if I'm a gang member? f** nah, I'm a gang leader Boss to the boss and I bang heaters And you dont wanna see my arm jerk Cause the work I put on your face is bound to make your mom hurt And this one is for my Cali n***as Eastsiders, Ruff Ryders and you can die in an ally n***as (Chorus) [Goldie Loc] I never write raps like a song can make me Trick off my money and let these b**hes break me Cause I'm a cold piece of gold, dickies saggin in the dirt Sellin' my double knucks, to enhance my work n***a Q keep it Pimpin, I'm 'a keep it Crippin' (Crippin') Me and Dip Dippin, Dogg tha Police Trippin' Im an Eastside Ryde or Die n***a And I believe you fools are some quick to lie n***as Sippin on Sans call me lil Bit A down to earth brother, Gang Bangin' and rappin' Fake Blow Joes not hoppin' Lo-Lo's Im tired of you bustaz and fake C-O's You can ask Deal Dogg,Motherf**in' Scoop We Done rounded up the homies and the front line troops Look Cuz, This game dont give me my cheese Im 'a sh** down your thorat, with tricks up my sleeve (Chorus)