Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Let's Ride , by - 8Ball. Release date: 18.05.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Let's Ride |
| You know sometimes you have to use a little composure |
| Be playa about the situation but this is not the time nigga |
| This is not the time nigga its time to ride its time to ride |
| Sometimes you have to keep it calm play it low |
| Bite your bottom lip to keep from clickin' on a ho |
| In the streets what the fuck don’t nobody play |
| From Memphis to the Bay niggas diein' all day |
| Over yea shipped with coke and candy cut up into bricks |
| Bitches that be thick be settin' up them tricks |
| Gettin' licks rules don’t apply to gettin' rich |
| Start a business sell a ki pimp a bitch |
| Make that switch real niggas flip shit |
| And farm the shit with a bad ass yellow bitch |
| Eight-Ball translation three and a half |
| You not affiliated nigga if you have to ask |
| Rich kid a queens nigga a green nigga |
| When I say green nigga all about his cream nigga |
| I suggest invest in a tank and a vest |
| Cuz me and all my niggas gone ride |
| One time for my real niggas (let's ride) |
| Two times for the game its all in your brain |
| Man if I had a buck for everytime I’ve fucked up |
| I would be the big willy nigga with my feet up |
| But I’m in the field killin' for a meal |
| Around fake hoes talkin' about they keep it real |
| Money murder all in my eyes real niggas ride and they don’t ask why |
| I’m a real ass nigga who I be MJ |
| Livin' to handle business every god damn day |
| Now who in the fuck be talkin' shit behind my back |
| Lookin' to find a hundred and thirty ways to get jacked |
| Tie you in the sack procede to pack you off too young |
| Yea you brought some pain I brought the rain and I stun to feel |
| I wonder will these fake ass bitches become real |
| Hell naw don’t forget bout the spliff and I tell ya’ll |
| Should I spell ya’ll fake ass bustas before I see ya |
| And I can tell by the scent in the air I don’t wanna meet ya |
| And I don’t care if its the motherfuckin' holidays |
| I ain’t gone preach just pose and look up at me like |
| A big 'ol pimp ass I’ll beat 'cha |
| Nigga I smash down to take care of killers who spit trash |
| Small pounds no limit soldiers we kick cash |
| At the drop of ball D-I-M-E P-I-M-P |
| Tight pass nigga for real trick don’t tell me |
| Preacher man could you pray for me cuz I’m about to sin |
| My homicidal poetry killin' again and again |
| T-Mix gave me the gun when he sat and made the track |
| A mental picture forms when I fire up a batch |
| Of sticky green love controllin' what I’m speakin' |
| Sprayin' niggas leavin' niggas layin' up leakin' |
| For weeks and weepin' from my grim reapin' realiwin' |
| Mj wake 'em up from sleepin' |
| I’m creepin' peepin' in your windows |
| Smokin' regular now you gonna leave us behind |
| We two steps ahead of the competition |
| We leave 'em wishin' upon the moon |
| We here with T-Mix creatin' a boom to move the room |
| Its that pimp shit that hardcore shit that shit you run from |
| See I ain’t got time for this superstlye shit i know where I come from |
| Ghetto hood ass nigga hard nine if you ever wanna meet |
| Me in person I ain’t hard to find |