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ruff ryders - twisted heat - featuring twista & drag-on lyrics

swizz beatz:
we know yall out to drink til yall throw up
we know yall sittin on 20s
we know yall reppin your hood
but how many yall kill!!!

[twista]
bounce that -ss, load them cribs,
let me see the mobbin n-gg-z that, uhh, talk sh-t
while these m-th-tf-ckaz be sc-mmy andll go for the money,
ready to ride when they holdin a lick
thugs with the chevys, thugs with the trucks,
the real gun runner never run when he bust
henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a dro blunt,
sippin with a fifty sack under the nuts
hoes with -ss and no gut
let me see you jiggle it from side to side
n-gg-z if it’s static, then p-ss me the strap,
gonna ride til my ride
all the hoes thatll freaky n-gg-z, with the fedi,
lets get buck up in the club
and all my soldiers, fall out, gangstas, mob up
all the homeys on the block,
anny up on the fin and lets go get us a sack
serve too, we got a custom lac, hustlin pack,
til a n-gg- bust, they bustin back
guys thatll roll them dice and win,
girls with fits that show the skin
real n-gg-z mind your best friend at the pen,
real hoes let your best friend know about men
cause i be squeezin -ss
andll make a full gl-ss disappear like a genie
move to the lox and beanie,
while them hoes backin that thang up on my weenie
its like no n-gg- in the world could see me
when i ruff ryde with drag-on
rollin up big babies in a mercedes,
if you want herb we got bombs

chorus: twista (drag-on) (2x)

gotta kick that sh-t for the fine b-tches and all my nugz
for the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
what do a n-gg- say when he say drag-on and twista (wanna kill me)
gangsta (lets ride), hustla (feel me)

[drag-on]
by know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight,
and this kid spit fire light
and the b-tch i don f-cked like last night,
i don’t give a f-ck bout a 2 and a half mic
cause the only m-th-f-ckin magazine that i read,
is when i buy my gun from it
how many bullets you could digest in that one stomach,
i suggest yall run from it
and the click-click from the calico, i gotta go,
make it pimp with a lot of hoes
im the same m-th-f-cka that’s countin that dough,
cookin that c-ke to a pot of gold
cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop,
i don’t care i gotta cap me a cop
as long as i got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks
drag open up boots by watchin co-ops in convo at condos
keep the heat up in jeeps, in case yall creep up on me
i run up on yall in a cab with a meter on me
and the only on leavin is me
and the only one bleedin is you, tryin to breeze with me
all the roc is e-n-y-c-e, in the nyc with the white t
all i really do is argue,
double f, r-y-d-e, d-r-a-g, to the dash o-n
catch me, smokin potent, bet it leave yall, n-gg-z soakin,
with your insides open

chorus: twista (drag-on) (2x)

swizz beatz:
errrrrrr!!!!
hold the f-ck up!
slow down!
drag, twista, listen up
these m-th-f-ckaz don’t know what’s real out here
(they d-mn sure don’t)
this is volume 2 (volume 2)
n-gg-, so, get ignorent!

chorus: twista (drag-on)

[twista]
whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical
smokin on tropical, achievin all missions impossible
when i up the block at you, ima pop at you
if your momma cry there’s nothin i could do
should notve f-cked with mr. illogical
when im in to clubbin, clubbin, shake it don’t you break it
you booty to shapey, can’t take it, wanna see you naked
i don drunk a boo m-th-f-cka, so you know im lit up
everybody get up, spin witha a twista, it’s a stick up

drag-on (swizz beatz):
this where the sh-t pick up, let me load this clip up,
l-st pour me some liquor, flame-on and twista,
lets see if you murdered wholl miss ya
i love the dirty south, that’s why i gotta dirty mouth
thatll burn you out
tell your b-tch i got a d-ck thatll turn her out,
especially when i tell her turn around
i don hurt her now
sh-tll come back, and i think it’s time to get murdered now
im tired of silly clowns, spittin out weak sh-t, sound like my sh-t
you gon make me pull a all nighter
standin infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
now hit, we wont miss ya, drag-on and twista
(puttin it on em!)

- ruff ryders lyrics

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