Lyrics:
I represent Southwest, Del-Ray Jefferson
Festival ridin', we deemed around the Mexican
Me and Violent J, we murder heroin addicts
With every
still learnin
First I'mma journey through hell, without burnin
Livin in the ghetto, the Devil is now a black man
I saw him standin in the corner wit
"We're not drug dealerswe're fundraisers"
Check 4, 54, 5 check, Check
Now when my cousin through
In that all-blue Kitted
They was ridin down Venice
bergh
(Lil' Flip)
down south we ride swangers on drop tops
after karintons we ride through our house
(Lil' Flip)
down south lil flip the only freestyle
baller
This ghetto baller wasn't puttin hands on you solos
Fuck you up on the mic and put slugs through ya car, Though
First, you dumb motherfucker, then
(feat august) a-a-a-august
Boy-wonder
Now if you recognize real
We'll recognize you
Now what you gonn do when
The storm come through
(when the day
nuts and my pride
I was different than them niggaz on the block sellin drugs
But I was always with em, actin like a thug
Runnin through the mud cause
young, it's still a lot of shit to go through
I been through enough drugs to get you high, think "I'm Bout It"
Think I'm lyin'? 'Cause I'm rhymin?
Of your songs a fifty-piece
We ghetto platinum, Boyz ENT
And free my nigga Ri'
Remember mama was on EBT, now we on BET
You know that nigga got some real
"Usually it starts by, you know
Crossing out mostly you know
One neighborhood will put their writing
On the wall, and then, you know
We come in right
hundred-eleventh street boy
Playin' ghetto gospel
Slidin' through the city of choppers
'bout to get this money and split
It up with my partners
My nigga, you got
behind
I came in this world way beyond my time
And then put in more work in
Than all these niggas combined
Uh, add it up, they don't even do the math
By
Yeah
Tryna figure out how to go about it
I see right through these cappin', niggas still got the nerve to lie about it
My slime don't mess with you
the dope boys that I influence, ride through the hood with a Patrick Ewings
Thirty-three bricks on you pussy niggas (street)
Don talk to 'em
Ridin
fanin my face, others give me grapes
By the grace of God, I was given the job
To run through the rap game like corn on the cob
So blessed in my test, I
Discuss these ridin thru the ghetto by rick ross Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In