Lyrics:
And every police car that I see ridin by
I autograph their car wit my brand new lid
Drinkin' to that set and hope my dog young have head
Throwin' up DPG
double cup and when he pull up, you gon' see his face
Aw shit, there go Rondo and he steady leanin'
Catch me ridin' 'round wit' my blick, they wanna
I pop, I know they know me
Designer brands and it's on me
Now I know they cannot stop me, yeah
I'm in Tulsa wit' da homies
Ridin' round, we catching
my Shit so i stay supa drunk
ridin downtown wit a shot of tiquila
jon introduced me to the gang i'm hot like refa A!
[Chorus: lil scrappy (lil' jon)
But nigga fuck what you goin through this 2-0
And by tha time I'm 17 if I ain't in tha pin
I'm on a mission wit tha homeboys mashin again
Ridin
attract violent, self esteem issue kinda types
Club wit your children, 5th of liquor and skittiwee
Try to run that game on me but baby you shittin' me
Gotti!'
Later man! (Dogg Pound Gangsta)
Yeah I hear the West Coast (Summertime) yeah put it down
They call me Roscoe by the way just so you know (Dogg
[Intro: Cube]
In every game, we gotta have the brains and the muscle
The game and the hustle... to be real on these streets
So here you have it,
to Guatemala
Eating shrimp by the dollar taking flights to Negril
Bitch please! and you ain't been wit Lenny and Pharrell
Me and Loon in the hills giving
I cut off the traces
Pay the dough, fight the system, no odds in the case, and I go
Identify me wit' murder detectives
These silly lil niggas, my
I go by them goon rules
You say get em bet I gotcha
Got a problem wit the bro
Or Touch my ho n I might pop ya
Disrespectful from a distance
Yea we Ridin
21 And yea we Stylin
Goin the mileage
She fuck wit fashion likin my way
Kinda cool but I'm still wildin
I keep it still but I'm still
Pop a perc that’s a man down
Ask yo bitch who her man now
The Rari seats in that tan brown
Shorty ridin wit her head down
Big bag in the back
brown tee
Muhammad throwback, who sport a jersey by Ali
And if he made one (Hell naw they don't excite me)
I'm all about my cash ridin' around wit
the pounds
Ridin round in the trap
I stay by my lonely
All these bitches
Act like they know me
Talk shit you get hit wit this 40
Everybody act like
They fuck
no more
Call it Simmons Incorporated, since '74
Lotta money in this fam, think about it
Me wit Run-D.M.C., and him over at Def Jam
Well damn, how
car into a bed by how I slept in it
She tryin’ turn my car into a bed how we have sex in it
B**** turn around, I’m not that affectionate
I pull up wit
missile
Said please shoot the club up on site no pistol
She ridin me like a bike
She ridin me like a bike
She ridin me like a bike
She said she in love wit
OooYa Wit by Terry (Isaiah) Johnson feat. Starling Newsome
Written by Terry Johnson, Theresa Trigg, Starling Newsome - BMI
INTRO: We call
Bro ridin' 'round wit' a stolen stick
And, you already know that he make it hit
And, you know how it go, I send a hit
Police just blue lighted me
wit you wit you wit you wit you wit you wit you wit you
If I see it I want it I buy it then I own it
Fuck some fake friends id rather be by lonely
like six I ain't gone get lined by no hoe
If you fuckin wit me throw yo sevens up
I be ridin round the city I ain't got my glizzy tucked
Bitch I be hot
I had to speed it up speed it up
Ayy
I ride thru another nigga city
One hunnit killas and they ridin' wit' me
And we 'bout to go light the city up
candy drippin' on the street, bitch I'm ridin,
BIG.
[Chorus]
[Plies]
Ain't too many niggas like me. I'm from a rare breed.
I walk it like I
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