a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

ruff ryders - the hood lyrics

Loading...

sh-t, this sh-t right here
is for the thugs in the street
do y’all hear me?
and this sh-t right here
might get you mugged in the street

beanie segal hit hard, and i’ll wire ya jaw
trademark n-gg-s eyes, give them permanent scars
twist backwards, never catch me rollin’ cigars
only c-ck and blow dro out of preservative jars

on the block serving like i never heard of the law
cops h-t the spot f-ck it, mad bro to bar
f-ck crack, flip powder, i ain’t takin’ a loss
plus if i get sn-tched, it’s less time for the song

i always been known to stroll the block, hold the glock
blow dro, pick up doe, reload the spot
i’m the sh-t with crushed ice and some arm and hammer
i’m the reason why smokers steal car antennas

i get bricks, so you know i make big nicks
the size of chiclets that make you pr-cks sick
while y’all try to profit, i just flip quick
y’all n-gg-s know my flow be sick, my doe be sick

now when you wake up
i’m wiping the cold out your eyes with the barrel of the gun
holding your son, smoking branson
blowing smoke in your face, i want the ransom and some
or sh-t’ll get the opposite of handsome

i mean i got to come clean
i’ve done bagged up and served
everything you’ve seen in the feds magazine
i’m what y’all haven’t seen
i swallow kerosene and p-ss out gasoline
strike a match and burn the f-cking scene

i’m no joker, i could blow you into smoke
and make your man a second hand smoker
i’m so vulgar, i’m sendin’ n-gg-s straight back to their maker
broke, with a play station for a cd player, see me player?

i don’t even play that sh-t
i just spit and have the whole hood sayin’ my sh-t
y’all got a bible? well, pray in that sh-t
while i smoke a scripture, load up the guns then come to rip ya

this be the realest sh-t i ever wrote
gun up in your mouth, hands around your throat
choke, n-gg-, choke, i’m dope
roll me up and smoke on contact
n-gg-s react, and play me back
for doe, i’ll murder ever n-gg- not on this track

i spit back at any n-gg- claimin’ he teflon
the best on, be the next n-gg- get stepped on
a sick dude, type to ask god, you wanna battle?
i could care less, send me h-ll i like to travel

after waxin’ him, i wax you
smack you, clap you and that’s two
n-gg-s, i left lookin’ like statues
i have to bring it to these cowards that talk hard
some jail sh-t? never even walked through a junk yard

i thump hard make a n-gg- yell for crew quick
a true b-tch, eat a n-gg- up like a chew-stick
too rich, is what i plan to be in the 9-9
it’s all mine, f-ggots ride bench when it’s crunch time

so b-mp mine, make a n-gg- lean off the opium you ethiopian
willie n-gg-s, yeah, we scopin’ ’em and ropin’ ’em
do a n-gg- rosewood style
hangin’ [incomprehensible]and his child

it’s mysonne, lefty, gun up in the right palm
poppin’ n-gg-s in their sleep so they die calm
kill or be killed, that’s the sh-t that i’m on
it’s desperado style, shooting at them side arm

i’m gone, see i’m dope like heroin
and my guns got scopes, so they zero in
here on in, know i fear no men
and m-th-rf-ck shootin’ five, here go ten

know that if you start a problem, there’s no end
you tough? fight death and be a hero then
n-gg-s call me poppyseed, i’ll pop your seed
and move bricks on the block that’s too hot to breath

i’m a real type of n-gg- that c-ck and squeeze
y’all them second guess f-ggots that c-ck and freeze
so i f-ck with real n-gg-s, like the lox and d
and y’all n-gg-s got problems, just watch and see

i’m the kid with the unlaced boots but’ll lace you
leave a hole in your facial, the size of a bagel
all my bullets h-t, never graze you
if you never was sh-t, i’ma promise you this i’ma front page you

i’ma young’n the first one there and the last one to get to running
unless you tell me the cops coming
‘cuz i like to feel -ssed out, so when they trap me i blast out
i’m quiet my gun gotta bad mouth

i wake up with the mad south
you know how many ch-nks and jews
drag’s done dragged out on a cash route?
‘cuz when i walk in, stop the talking
i don’t give a f-ck if it’s a n-gg- with a walkman
i’ma put him in a coffin

soon as i step in
i’m runnin’ up on the n-gg- with the thick lens
i’m tryin’ to get the benz with the thick rims
double r, soon half of us’ll go to jail
the best studio, 16 bars to post bail

- ruff ryders lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS

Loading...