The Lox - Dirty Ryders (Ratatat remix) lyrics

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The Lox - Dirty Ryders (Ratatat remix) lyrics

(The Lox) Yeah, yeah, yeah What up Looch (What up, what up D-Block) We did it again shocks, no doubt Yeah (It's The Lox!) Still, ain't nothin' changed (Still a ghost) It's still a ghost baby (Come on, what's up, yeah, yeah, yeah) You see me don't say sh** n***a (Grab ya burner and bust off) What (Uh huh, uh huh) yo, hey yo... (Sheek) You know that motherf**er Sheek Looch is a gladiator Like Russell Crowe, with my heat in a rad-iator I come through slow you out there I'm lettin' it go I got fire for ya ducks you want lissome dro That's why I ain't got mercy for pigs Off the roof, I let sh** parachute to their wigs and their kids I treat their face like I'm goin' to my safe Ten to the left, six to the right (Ha ha) 240 pounds and I ain't tryin' to fight And they don't make cuffs strong enough to lock me in And your vest ain't thick enough to stop all ten The sergeant be callin' up ya next-of-kin But fu*k THAT my guns gotta speech problem They stutter when they spit Go through you when they hit My sh** ain't got no manners Chromed out sniper rifle with the tank bananas, uh uh (Hook: Jadakiss) Training day, you could hear the sirens All the cops crooked like who you people jivin' Head shots, shoot between the eyes And bullets in the dome like all you cowards dyin' Knife work, stab you in the heart and the throat And we don't leave till you gargle or choke And we Black Mob, L-O-X guerilla n***as Show you how to k** a n***a, you ain't got to feel a n***a (Styles) I love my n***as, why wouldn't I Die for my motherf**ers, how couldn't I Want a lot of things but it just ain't affordable Only thing that count when you die is what they thought of you Kid comin' through with a clip full of cop k**ers Booted out something decent Up to light a blunt, wild out, and shoot it out with the precinct Cops stay crooked, my n***as ain't nice see Cause the block stay cookin' I'm coolin' it off When the pigs come through they medullas is off Where I'm from dog you rude or you soft If you say you a k**er n***as'll ask you who did you off So P keep this hustlin' up When it comes to these guns or these knives n***a I'm f**in' you up And baby we can knuckle it up I'm always up for a brawl S-P and I done been through it all (Hook) (Sheek) Hey yo, now I know you seen n***as with half a bodies On top of skateboards, the work of shotties sh** bags and all that, back to potties I ain't a playa but my nine keeps em' hotties And we don't run when we hear (* Police Sirens *) I just hit em' off with cake so they give us a break And let us know who rattin' I leave their bodies in the middle of Manhattan Where Wall Street at, come on (Styles) I said all the cops hate us and they got a good reason to Forty bricks a month, no account unbelievable Homicide here and there, b**hes in pajamas Holdin' llamas in they dairy-air, playin the fun We the 3-5-4 boys, play if you one All they do is call the cop on us See us in the hood they know we got the Glocks on us Poppin' em' off n***as call me the cab driver now I'm droppin em' off (Hook x2)