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styles p - i'm a ruff ryder lyrics

f/ jadakiss

[styles – verse one]
talk, holiday styles, s-p or whatever you choose
a pound of weed, four guns and a liter of booze
whup you n-gg-s out they shoes, what
come and f-ck with me, i can guarantee you’ll be makin
a lose
p flows like no n-gg-, twenty-six but i’m a old n-gg-
don’t make me f-ck around and show n-gg-s
how to leave a room flat, twenty n-gg-s dead
no money, no jewels, bullets in they head
ain’t a n-gg- you know could f-ck with the god
i said that was just a hobby, gun bust in the job
but the sickest n-gg-s out is the b-tchest n-gg-s out
and i could take em on the street and straight whip em
in the house
come through in the prettiest porshe, the grittiest
morse
state gotta talk till the city get ho-rs-
i’m the icin on the cake, gangsta of the state
guns, money you wait, who you f-ckin wit dawg?

[chorus – jadakiss]
uh, i’m a ruff ryder
weed smokin, gun totin’ heroin supplier
i’m a ruff ryder
on the low dawg, no phone calls, got my sh-t wired
i’m a ruff ryder
bust for my n-gg-s, shh, hush for my n-gg-s, all of us
survivors
i’m a ruff ryder
you got a gun on you, i got a gun on me, both of us
could fire

[styles – verse two]
you’ll steal with the tension and stress
understand i’m from the school of hard knock and my
suspension is death
i keep the p-89 twenty shot in the coat
better squeeze soon as you see me, you plottin to loat
i’m a little more than itchy
motherf-cker, when it’s time to splatter your mask i
burst your kidneys
so go head and get your sons on me
like i give a f-ck, like i’m givin up i got four guns
on me
get down and dirty, all time aloney
i leave your brains on your block all around your
homies
live by the code of honor, stay holdin armor
i treat beef like a alb-m i could poke a drama
stay bustin a hammer, sweatin a smile
and i make sure these motherf-ckers’ll regret while
i’m wildin
i’m the hustler on the block
with money on his mind and some bricks in his hand, p
can’t be stopped, what

[chorus – jadakiss]

[styles – verse three]
you’re dealin with the ghost of the past
you could sleep if you want, and get f-cked with this
toast in your -ss
i’m the gangsta and a gentleman, i hope you the best
and tell them clear the front seat and then choke you
to death
throw the gun to the chair try to open your chest
get blood on the driver’s face, window and dash
burn the car with the body in it, bring you the ash
i get down on yo head like i’m sigel the cold
that n-gg- sniffed up yo coat i could bring you his
nose
if he stole money from you p could bring you his hands
the n-gg- talk too much i bring the ears of his fans
need weed to calm down, need money to leave light
f-ck a watch cause my time is tickin
f-ck a chain i’m already hangin
f-ck a gang i’m already bangin
robbin n-gg-s is my only form of steady payment
play it sweet i might be in your house
l-o-x black mob holiday and i’m out
what… b-tch?

i’m a ruff ryder
weed smokin, gun totin’ heroin supplier
i’m a ruff ryder
on the low dawg, no phone calls, got my sh-t wired
i’m a ruff ryder
bust for my n-gg-s, shh, hush for my n-gg-s, all of us
survivors
i’m a ruff ryder
you got a gun on you, i got a gun on me, both of us
could fire
i’m a ruff ryder, uhh, f-ggots

- styles p lyrics

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