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spice 1 - ride fo' mine lyrics

(intro: ike dirty)
(-blaow repeated in background-)
(hahahahahaha), yeah (blaow) that boombonic sh-t sound, happen here
spice 1…

(chorus: spice 1)
they wanna keep a n-gg- under the water
but i’m a killer i’ma die fo’ mine! (die fo’ mine!)
but if a n-gg- try to front on my thuggin’
then motherf-cker i’ma ride fo’ mine! (ride fo’ mine!)
they wanna keep a n-gg- under the water
but i’m a killer i’ma die fo’ mine! (die fo’ mine!)
but if a n-gg- try to front on my thuggin’
then motherf-cker i’ma ride fo’ mine! (ride fo’ mine!)
they wanna keep a n-gg- under the water
but i’m a killer i’ma die fo’ mine! (die fo’ mine!)
but if a n-gg- try to front on my thuggin’
then motherf-cker i’ma ride fo’ mine! (ride fo’ mine!)
they wanna keep a n-gg- under the water
but i’m a killer i’ma die fo’ mine! (die fo’ mine!)
but if a n-gg- try to front on my thuggin’
then motherf-cker i’ma ride fo’ mine! (ride fo’ mine!)

(half-a-mil)
i pack twin glocks, sit mad henrock, get cash in a benz drop
get -ss till my d-ck drop, how much p-ssy can a b-tch pop?
the way she makes that cash n-gg- thought she had a bounce in her -ss
hittin’ the switches, gettin’ the riches, million put on the b-tches
who wanna ride? f-ckin’ with us is suicide
spice 1 puffin’ on blunts is light one, it’s the right one
with tight funds from brooklyn to oakland
no chronic give the po’ to smoke one
see we bad as h-ll, outta jail on bail
feds put a tap on my cell, all i talk about is p-ssy and paper
in a hotel sippin’ mo’, gettin’ the dough, 250 mill
now we hittin’ the door, come take plans raw
leave without your hoes, without rolls, without your clothes, without your dough

(ike dirty)
what the h-ll you cats thinkin’?
i ain’t gonna bring it, smoke it, drink it, crack it, think it
deep as regans, f-ck your feelings, don’t wanna, can’t get none
grab your gun, slap your son, split a half-a-mil with spice 1
whoopin’ any n-gg- like tyson, sold the stamp
ike dirty hold it down, eyes everywhere, ears to the ground
sold pounds, sold pounds they area, bk bit area
air in your eyes, airin’ you out
steel in your mouth, what’s this man about?
we ain’t heard of me, next you wanna murder me
check my styles as a matter of fact bring your gats
so when i come through i’m askin’ where the cream is at
seem is as puffin’ like the meanest -ss, squeeze off take cheese and dash
your greasy -ss, rap on n-gg-s step on n-gg-s
i’ll be silent make y’all just check y’all (pause)…
shut up man, (no doubt), shut up man, (haha)

(spice 1)
i’m a motherf-ckin’ killer for realer puttin’ n-gg-s up on they back
with the -ss of a twin flex, smokin’ a sack!
thinkin’ a n-gg- need to be in a motherf-ckin’ grave
i ain’t the one that leave a n-gg- breathin’ holes is laid
up on the concrete face down with a h-h-hole in they back
n-gg-s a pound, sticky green then f-ck ’em all
we ain’t nothin’ but real n-gg-s livin’ a ball
on call seven days a week, killer g’s don’t sleep
the n-gg-s with the casket closed when we creep, creep
pull a job, do it like the motherf-ckin’ mob
throwin’ n-gg-s in trunks take ’em for a little ride
hit the block with the fully automatic with static around the corner
n-gg-s bustin’ at the hoodie goin’ blaow!
you b-tches better throw in a towel, kill ’em off which is my style (my style!, my style!)
situations occur when you front on my thuggin’
i’ma die fo’ mine, cause your chrome up in the hummer, bail outta this drama
get the f-ck outta the scene, leavin’ n-gg-s with they mom where the f-ckin’ bell ding
thug dreams, learnt from cream, wear my motherf-ckin’ life on a triple beam
but when the enemies see me i’ma dip in the cut
pull out my uzi and tear his motherf-ckin’ -ss up

- spice 1 lyrics

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