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[Chorus] Eye for an eye; eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die Eye for an eye; eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die Eye for an eye; eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die Eye for an eye; Eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die [Celly Cel] Won't leave the house unless I'm strapped up I might get backed up in the traffic Niggas is dumping on me when I got my zapper Creeping up on me when I had one hand on the wheel One hand on the steel, trying to break a nigga's thinking Ride with shoot, sharpening skills for season whatever the reason I'm dealing with drama; send one of them bitchez-ass niggas Crying to Mama; I kicking the door to alleviate the whole situation F*ck with me, he ended up having his whole family erased Face it, no charges, leaving the body until you better respect game F*ck that, when niggas spill f*ck your hood When your caught up in a twist flash on us, you'll end up sleeping With the fish singing, shoes honey singing Them blues and them sad ballads Fried colla greens and potato salads So rounded them up; so many family member crying Eye for an eye, you ride or you die [Chorus] Niggas get itching when you run back at them And let them bullets fly [C-Bo] He moved one; oh, moved back on the piggies; hit'em up and buck And leave them struck when I'm dictation love for the thugs That die for this shit with a hundred fifty round, drive For this shit, f*ck the hard hats and locs; pass the fo' fo' And watch me smoke them hos like the last hitter indoer Fo' sho', smash and blast, nigga, when I'm provoked With a loaded magnum coke, I'm down [Celly Cel] Why you smiling when these niggas and bitches be playing games? In the street is where they meet the heat That's where they sweep their ass up off their feet This ain't no fairy-tale; you fucking with Cel Hit the scenes with machines if you want my team There ain't no in-between seventeen in that place When your crossing the realest Niggas is business; kill this shit on the mic And make the world feel us hit them with rounds; hollow tips When we're finished, niggas chop they ass up Till they fully out of... [Chorus] Niggas get itchy when you run back at them And let them bullets fly [C-Bo] I ain't no actor, bitch; my life is worser than the movies For real though, from steel toes to my uzi pushers Impala S.S., Benz Beamer, to Lamborghinis and chase my strip With X.O. Henn and Remi Rolex on my wrist; hundred bill, crisp I pull a blunt from my lit forty-five from my hip and spit Incredible, medical hardcore; the deadliest metaliest Gas ever set off in a war; westcoast, the spot where We making millin dollar noise; survival in heck-packing heat Ducking from them, I'm just a thug nigga, step on your street And draw my heat then I plug niggas I be a G From the G.B.C., I mug niggas; don't flag, I just sag And carry a mag and get off in the snitches' asses You a bitch, but still ride or die, screaming out the block [Chorus] Niggas get itchy when you run back at them And let them bullets fly
Written by: GRAHAM VERNON MASSEY, GERALD RYDEL SIMPSON, MARK L. ADAMS, MARK F. HICKS, GEORGE CURTIS JONES, RAYMOND GUY TURNER, STEPHEN C. WASHINGTON, DANIEL WEBSTER, STARLEANA YOUNG
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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