Ride or Die

Damn You gone ride or die? Woo Woo All my niggas gone bust they guns Real mother fuckers never trust niggas, but we trust our guns Get money is the code of the streets Live by it, and they say the hotter the bullets, the colder the streets Like the older the hammer, the older the beef You holding the can and you busting or you die with your heat Me and my niggas gone survive in the street For one reason, we ain't living to kill niggas, just dieing to sleep I'm in the hood and I ain't wear a vest Push a stock GTO, with a pump in the seat and a desert eagle in the head rest Live and I took 5, get respect cause I wont die So its a bet that I'm gone ride [Chorus: x2] I'm riding dog, you riding with me? (ride with me) If I'm frying dog, you frying with me? (fry with me) If I'm dieing dog, you dieing with me? (die with me) Just know when the beef come, we all busting our guns (what?) We can beef, I don't give a fuck, any street, stoop or block Compton, New York City of Rocks You ain't never been out the hood? don't go to far 12 gauge shotty, with a pump like Joe Dumar's Shells the size of Sprewell lugs, go through cars Rip apart your new Bentley nigga, like Dre sent me The haze in me make me wanna kick back Your man work out at bally's, put the 38 to a 6 pack And beef keep the E.R full til the shit packed No more rooms? let em die in the streets Im from the CPT, where niggas dieing to eat Them niggas with scars under they left eye and they cheek Park a 745 on your street Like mother fucker if you don't ride with me, you can die with the enemy Or die like the Kennedy's nigga I empty desert clips out like a bottle of Hennessy nigga [Chorus: x2] I got niggas that'll beef for the game Run up on your man, splat his brain then bring you his chain So if you owe my hood, you better pay up I roll with killas, that'll put you in a hole like a lay up Ain't no sleep on the block, my niggas stay up Cause they ain't trying to miss sales They trying to tip over fish scales Be in the XXL, and its only 6 street rappers if you wanna be real That go for the whole industry you bitch ass niggas Say my name in a verse if you ready to die I call up my Harlem niggas on the i95 10 minutes later you dead on the I95 Aftermath mother fucker, we ain't playing this shit 50, work ride, Joe, Cube, the Game and Em Its our house and we in the front yard So fuck with the Dr. and get picked apart like junk yards [Chorus: x2]