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styles p - i'm a ruff ryder lyrics

[styles talking]
it’s the tone, kiss
i’m lookin for the tone

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

[hook: 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-ggas, shh, hush for my n-ggas, 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

[verse two: styles]
just deal 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 loc
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 by my lonely
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 album i promote the 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

[hook]

[verse three: styles]
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 a gangsta and a gentleman, i hope you the best
and tell you play 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 face, window and dash
burn the car with the body in it, bring you the ash
i get down on yo hit like i’m sigel the cold
that n-gga sniffed up yo c0ke i could bring you his nose
if he stole money from you p could bring you his hands
the n-gga talk too much i bring the ears of his mans
need weed to calm down, need money to live life
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-ggas 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?

[hook – 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-ggas, shh, hush for my n-ggas, 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
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-ggas, shh, hush for my n-ggas, 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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