Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Do You Wanna Ride? (feat. Sean Pymp, Tyte Eyez & Billy Cook) , by - E.S.G.. Release date: 04.04.1995
Song language: English
Do You Wanna Ride? (feat. Sean Pymp, Tyte Eyez & Billy Cook) |
| Ride baby, ridas, ridas, ridas |
| You want to ride you can ride, want to drive you can drive |
| But lord knows, when I roll I’ma be high |
| Do you want to ride with the southside |
| Eastside gone ride |
| Do you want to ride with the southside |
| Westside gone ride |
| Do you want to ride with the southside |
| Northside gone ride |
| Do you want to ride with the southside |
| Southside worldwide |
| Hey ho, hey ho, southside gone hold |
| It’s candy coats on my toes |
| As I, park the Rolls, and open up the doors |
| Shining marble floors, love seat full of hoes |
| 52 inch Playstation with some 9−9 Tekken |
| Another L.P. they tell me, this boy still wrecking |
| Ain’t no time for plexing, I can squash the chat |
| Meet me at the studio, leg go popping to that |
| From the billboard to the Murda Dog, E.S.G. |
| gone serve em all |
| While they hating I’m debating on a third of my call |
| Now we gone ball and parlay, macking gray Navigator |
| Round some chicken if you with it jazz face in Jamaica |
| Now later playa hater, just for bumping his gums |
| Started off with non salt slanging two for one |
| But my job ain’t done until I go worldwide |
| And have em all body rocking which side want to ride |
| I bring the noise, when I pop my trunk |
| Customized with the glass banging southside funk |
| Blowing honks of the skunks till the cat’s smoked out |
| Riding high till we die with the glock on cock |
| Always peeping never sleeping man these boys’ll get you |
| Picking the wrong times, the wrong place and wrong picture |
| But I ain’t bout tripping, fool I’m all about my chips |
| Stacking a grip, big old pimps on the southside flip |
| Bought a club where them drugs and the thugs show love |
| Pop trunk, me on buzz throwing back to dump |
| Keeping it true, jamming Screw slow it down three knots |
| Got a people off the hill and they out by the dock |
| Off the beach lay up on to some yellow toned skin |
| X to my N-U-G six hundred with rims |
| Pop a pill, stack a mill, it’s our time to rise |
| If you boys represent then just ride with the southside |
| Come take a ride on the side where the weather stay dry |
| Boppers ride plenty dick behind the shit that you drive |
| As I creep the scene I’m peeping these so called friends and foes |
| Louisiana nigga with the k, but better to fuck so many hoes |
| And yours too, watch me roll through, with the screens falling down |
| They lit, with your bitch, on my passenger side |
| Hit the switch, trunk rise, gangsta whitewall tires |
| Sunshine, blind eyes, on my candy coated prize |
| But my pride, can’t be tied to no item you purchase |
| Cause in the long run, when you gone son, the shit’s all worthless |
| Valet service, got em nervous, when we hit the scene |
| Haters green, blowing steam cause we stepped out cream |
| Our team fifteen deep, methyzine and sweets |
| Limousines we cheap, so check the V.I.P. |
| Hit the club, rush the bar, pull a star then I’m jetting |
| Now which side, want to ride, with the shop that’s wrecking |
| I 10 connected, that’s right |
| (*ad-libs*) |