| Yeah, yeah we can ride to this
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| Just lay back, and cruise
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| Here’s a taste of my life, it’s bitter and sweet
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| I pour my heart out to the sounds of the drums and the beat
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| I put my life on the line when I’m out on the street
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| Put my Teflon on, and roll with my heat
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| I keep my circle nice and small, I don’t fuck with these clown niggaz
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| In the race for the cheese I run laps around niggaz
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| Soon as I step on stage, the crowd applauds
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| Sooner as my sneaker wear in stores, Reebok stock soared
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| I ain’t gotta say I’m a boss, niggaz could tell
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| A East coast crib the size of a small hotel
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| The shit journalists, write about me leave me confused
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| Have me feelin like the heavyweight champ when he lose
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| I read somewhere, I’m homophobic — sheeit
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| Go through the hood, there’s mad niggaz on my dick
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| Now we can get hostile, or we can this smooth
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| TNT around, I can still make blow move
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| This is what you call rider music
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| All the gangsters are ridin to it — c’mon, let’s roll
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| I can show you how we do it
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| When we ride to that rider music — let’s go, let’s go Last year I woke up with good luck, damn it feels good
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| On the low, I done fucked like half of Hollywood
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| Had yo’favorite actress, from yo’favorite shows
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| In my favorite position, you know how it goes
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| And my Bentley bumpin Prince shit, this is When Doves Cry
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| This is what it sounds like when hollow-tip slugs fly
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| Homey this is somethin you can ride and smoke to Stay on point, cause niggaz will ride and smoke you
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| Jealousy’s for women but some niggaz is bitch made
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| They make you wanna run across they head with a switchblade
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| They point the finger at me, sayin I’m bugged
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| My flow’s crack, you listen? |
| Your fuckin brain’s on drugs
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| Look ice drippin on my neck, hands grippin on a tec
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| Fool trippin threw a set, you can get yo’ass wet
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| Cards messin up my deck, screws loose show respect
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| You try to come at me kid yo’ass better come correct
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| My momma gave birth to a winner, I gotta win
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| Pray the Lord forgive me for my sins (uh-huh) I’m still thuggin
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| Cruisin, rims gleamin like the stones on my wrist
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| Zonin, guess this is how it feels to be rich
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| Homey, you all front backwards if you chasin a bitch
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| Stupid — chase the paper they come with the shit
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| I’m fallin, in love with success
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| Entrepeneur, conniseur, I maneuver the best
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| Rollin, Ruger on my lap, rubber grip on the handle
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| Stunner have your homies burnin rest in peace candles
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| As wise men speak I listen and learn
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| A man dies, a baby’s born, my nigga the world turns
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| Rappers I make 'em sick, when I say I’m the shit
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| They mistake my confidence for arrogance, they hate on the kid
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| In 99 I had a vision and made a decision
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| Bein broke is against my religion, now I’m caked up — what?
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| — to fade |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ryder Music, artist - 50 Cent. Album song The Massacre, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп