Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song G-Ride, artist - E.S.G
Date of issue: 11.09.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
G-Ride |
ESG |
All aboard! |
Haha, foe, ain’t nothing but a G ride |
So, uh, pack ya bags, get your sweets and your zig-zags |
Just jump in |
(Ooooh, ooh, ooh, ooooh, yeah) |
(Nothing like that G ride, baby, yeah!) |
(Nothing like that G ride, yeah, oooh yeah!) |
Up, early, to wash my face |
Probation was the place |
Before I blow out the door, vibration on my waist |
Now that’s my fool, what’s the rule? |
Go to jail if I miss? |
I might as well post bail, cause I’ma fail if I piss |
I hit the highway, the fly way, as the wind blows |
I got that indo, some gin ho |
So I’m gonna spin vogues (ooh, wee, baby, yeeah) |
And blowin', while this pimp game is steady showin' |
Sun beamin' and screamin', while these slim things is strollin' |
High shinin' green the skunk, we some fiends for the funk |
I’m cracking the ground in, these poundin' four 15's in my trunk |
Cause I’ma baller til I die, I think I’ll call her cause I’m high (cause I’m |
high) |
Late night hype so tight, these suckers be goin' down, I can’t lie |
But I’m right about now, them hoes is gone so it’s on |
Might as well just get gone and get, like, trapped in the zone (the zone) |
Cause I got the automatic fo' the static inside |
I’m getting fried and high, (I'm getting fried, baby) |
Motherfucker, it’s nothing but a g ride |
I hit a, curb, swiggity swerve, see you fiendin' fo' it |
Folks scream, «it's smoke!» |
sun beamin' locs |
But I let the top down, I can’t stop now |
15's bang, about to knock the block down |
You wanna see the E? |
Then I’ma hit cha |
The Mac-11 hit cha, while the rotweiler bit cha |
(??) devils do drop, with a new Glock |
It’s a red, not a blue dot, slowed down 2Pac |
Fingerprints and dirty sheets (slowed down, slowww down, yeah) on the first day |
Celebrate my birthday, in the worst way |
I’m on lock, no block, no boys on my block |
The dope case in my face, the fence was too high to hop |
The matchbox of rocks, now crooked cops can’t stop, (nothing but that G ride, |
baby) |
Lord, help a young nigga make it to his next box |
Smoking a sweet, poking at freaks got me weak inside, (oh baby!) |
Locked up for 18 months, but I ain’t crunk |
It’s nothing but a G ride |