|
Intro: |
|
(Sheek) |
|
Yo I might get drunk |
|
(Jadakiss) |
|
Jeckel and Hyde |
|
Roll these with lemons |
|
(Sheek) |
|
I'm tellin' y'all Niggas |
|
Swizz Beatz |
|
Chorus: |
|
(All) |
|
If you know, like we know, like they know |
|
L.O.X. is the best |
|
If you know, like we know, like they know |
|
Swizz Beatz is the best |
|
If you know, like we know, like they know |
|
Ruff Ryders is the best |
|
If you know, like we know, like they know |
|
We'll bring it to their chest |
|
Verse 1: |
|
(Sheek a.k.a Louch) |
|
Yo if I can't make money |
|
Then you can't either |
|
If I didn't have to rap |
|
I have blown in the freezer |
|
(Styles a.k.a Holiday) |
|
If I can't rock Nikes |
|
or Tim's with double soles |
|
I have the 9 in the pound |
|
And leave your ass full of holes |
|
(Jada a.k.a Kisseastwood) |
|
If I didn't push a Benz |
|
And I didn't push a Lex |
|
Then the Ambulance will come |
|
And they be pushin' on your chest |
|
(Swizz Beatz) |
|
If I couldn't hit the studio |
|
and make another record |
|
For my double R Niggas |
|
I'll lay y'all on stretchers |
|
(Sheek a.k.a Louch) |
|
Now I might get drunk |
|
Or I might get high |
|
But my game stay Trump |
|
And my style stay fly |
|
(Styles a.k.a Holiday) |
|
I might hit a dime |
|
Or I might hit a duece |
|
And when I wanna go to war |
|
Is when you wanna call a truce |
|
(Jada a.k.a Kisseastwood) |
|
I might buy 'em cooked |
|
Dough I might buy 'em raw |
|
And I might tap your chin |
|
Or I might cross your jaw |
|
(Swizz Beatz) |
|
Now I might go 18's |
|
I might go 20's |
|
I might use dumdums |
|
Cause y'all Niggas dummies |
|
Chorus: |
|
Verse 2: |
|
(Sheek a.k.a Louch) |
|
Ayo, me without weight |
|
Is like Harlem without 8 |
|
(Jada a.k.a Kisseastwood) |
|
Yeah, me with no funds |
|
Is like Queens with no dunns |
|
(Styles a.k.a Holiday) |
|
And me with no beef |
|
Is like Brooklyn with no guns |
|
(Swizz Beatz) |
|
Man and me with no beats |
|
Is like Cali with no blunts |
|
(Sheek a.k.a Louch) |
|
First I got head from her |
|
Then I hit her from the back |
|
Then she told me that she hustled |
|
So I hit her with a pack |
|
(Jada a.k.a Kisseastwood) |
|
Yeah, screw how many mics you got |
|
How much ice you got |
|
My bullets'll make you icy-hot |
|
(Styles a.k.a Holiday) |
|
Y'all, all my Niggas killas |
|
We don't talk on the phone |
|
And give a way better message |
|
When we come in your home |
|
(Swizz Beatz) |
|
Yo, catch me Down-South |
|
When I'm pumpin' up things |
|
and my name ain't Rover |
|
Don't jump on my rings |
|
(Sheek a.k.a Louch) |
|
Man, you gotta have your hustle right |
|
When you up in the game |
|
(Jada a.k.a Kisseastwood) |
|
You gotta have your lawyor money |
|
For you firm-aly change |
|
(Styles a.k.a Holiday) |
|
And don't you leave out the house |
|
Without bringer your things |
|
(Swizz Beatz) |
|
We gonna Ruff Ryde, Nigga |
|
>From here to the bank |
|
Interlude: |
|
(Sheek a.k.a Louch) |
|
What you greaseball cocksuckers thought it was over |
|
This double R, Nigga, L.O.X. |
|
We are the streets |
|
When the kennels is open the dogs is biting, bitch |
|
Shits real |
|
Verse 3: |
|
(Drag-on) |
|
Yo, yo, yo, yo |
|
I might pull up in a V, |
|
that cost more than a buck |
|
Then turn around and burn it |
|
Cause you thought it was plush |
|
(Eve) |
|
Anytime I get on fire |
|
I get a car to match |
|
And tell any rapper you name |
|
You gard it black |
|
(Drag-On) |
|
When I bust my hammer |
|
I nail my Nigga |
|
We the Ruff Ryder family |
|
All hail, my Niggas |
|
(Eve) |
|
And I might ride, I might die |
|
That's up to the Lord |
|
And my Niggas might come home |
|
That's up to the ? |
|
(Drag-On) |
|
Yo, If money make you feel good |
|
I'm happy with lead |
|
Joe Pesci-style |
|
Kickin' Niggas after they dead |
|
(Eve) |
|
Picture the litter |
|
Hold the 4-5th for my Niggas |
|
Writin' the venom |
|
Ass look right in the dinner |
|
(Drag-On) |
|
?Dockin'? you pay |
|
Word from me you clockin' the Yay |
|
I hustle for real |
|
Let you hold the block for a day |
|
(Eve) |
|
Pull it in your brain |
|
And give you a hot idea |
|
You wanna low |
|
Here's a casket you can hide out there |
|
Chorus: til fade |
