Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Eastside Ryders, artist - Holiday StylesDate of issue: 03.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Eastside Ryders |
| Who run these streets? |
| Love Thug Beats? |
| Ruff Spoken, Guns Speak, Blood Leak |
| Lug heat for the threat not protection |
| Not a question, Busta Tests I got rest 'em |
| Catch 'Em Slippin, in the hood or the mall |
| You ain’t strapped, we can scrap, I’m good with the Doggs |
| Fuck Talkin', Chuck Walkin' in my khakis |
| Rag Swangin', Gang Bangin' nigga brang it at me |
| Eastsider, Ruff Ryder loved by the masses |
| We The Niggas holla out the set when we blastin' |
| Insane 20 gang, anything killa |
| Tracy Davis, Hair Raises, Goldie Loc The Stealer |
| Gang Lock Down, We Can’t Stop Now |
| Get in the way of villan and Tray spray hot rounds |
| Suckas chose thuggin' as a last resort, ain’t that a bitch? |
| Here we do this shit for sport This CRIP |
| Chorus: We ridaz, keep the heat beside us |
| Better Not try us, Touch ya like Midas |
| Ruff Rydaz, Ride with Eastsidaz |
| Bustaz bow down to crown, the Royal Highness |
| Well we gonna take your raps, and gats, stacks and sacks |
| Dippin with the Jags and 'Lacs |
| Eastsidaz roll with Ruff Rydaz |
| Try to step aside us or get right behind us |
| When I die, fuck a moment of silence, this is Holiday |
| Gangsta rap gunnin' and havin' moments of violence |
| Its an Eastsider, Ruff Ryder thing, Why you mad at me? |
| Holdin on an AK, puffin' on some Cali weed |
| Streets is my girl, asked her to marry me |
| Yellow and purple Airs, tryin' to see Shaq’s Salary |
| D-Block Gang, Ruff Ryder Mafia |
| Make Sure the bullets hit u cause I stand on top of ya |
| Bounce like I’m Hydrolics (Hydrolics) |
| And I got niggas in the hood that would shoot you over nine dollars |
| Asked if I’m a gang member? |
| Fuck nah, I’m a gang leader |
| Boss to the boss and I bang heaters |
| And you dont wanna see my arm jerk |
| Cause the work I put on your face is bound to make your mom hurt |
| And this one is for my Cali niggas |
| Eastsiders, Ruff Ryders and you can die in an ally niggas |
| I never write raps like a song can make me |
| Trick off my money and let these bitches break me |
| Cause I’m a cold piece of gold, dickies saggin in the dirt |
| Sellin' my double knucks, to enhance my work |
| Nigga Q keep it Pimpin, I’m 'a keep it Crippin' (Crippin') |
| Me and Dip Dippin, Dogg tha Police Trippin' |
| Im an Eastside Ryde or Die Nigga |
| And I believe you fools are some quick to lie niggas |
| Sippin on Sans call me lil Bit |
| A down to earth brother, Gang Bangin' and rappin' |
| Fake Blow Joes not hoppin' Lo-Lo's |
| Im tired of you bustaz and fake C-O's |
| You can ask Deal Dogg, Motherfuckin' Scoop |
| We Done rounded up the homies and the front line troops |
| Look Cuz, This game dont give me my cheese |
| Im 'a shit down your thorat, with tricks up my sleeve |