Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hide Out Or Ride Out, artist - Juvenile. Album song Solja Rags, in the genre R&BDate of issue: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
Hide Out Or Ride Out |
| I strike a load |
| You get served like we toke with |
| Fake busta get smoked with |
| Aproach it |
| I explode it |
| Unload it |
| Reload it |
| Unload again |
| And pull another left hand |
| Fifty shots to win |
| I can’t lose its impossible |
| Plus I got a chopper fifty shots about to droppin' you |
| I be 'bout strings hittin' the beef gigga head |
| Then leave the set, leave a beef gigga wet |
| Jet |
| Off the scene with the uptown fighter |
| Red dot sighters |
| All week night flighters |
| I’m a get ya', when ya' least expect it |
| Cock the glock jacket |
| A vest can’t protect it |
| Boy, is ya' ready |
| I’ll leave yo' set wetted |
| Slugs flyin' high, got yo' body real heavy |
| You can’t move, ya' got buff |
| Now your stuck |
| Left Wayne on the set, and yo' boys to pick you up |
| Out cold |
| Head swoll |
| Eyes closed |
| I know for sure |
| You ain’t gon' test me no more |
| Yo' block tore |
| Yo' family in black clothes |
| You got blowed |
| And in ya chest is many holes |
| This goes |
| For Lataranza Elmo |
| I show |
| How uptown niggas roll |
| Ya' big boy, me and my niggas did it to ya |
| Automatic, black chopper trigger pullin' |
| That’s how we be |
| Loadin' clips then release |
| Eight deep |
| In the three-hundred E |
| Leather seats |
| And in the trunk artillery |
| Up the streets |
| Where I started sure ain’t for me |
| The B.G. |
| That’s the name I go by |
| Test me |
| You die S Kangol Y |
| Hide out |
| At the club, slide out |
| Ride out |
| Yo' block 'bout to die out |
| Move ya' people |
| I’m burnin' down the whole streets |
| The night creepers |
| 'bout to heat our enemies |
| Lights off masks on, creep silense |
| Lights gone |
| We done left yo' block wired |
| Retaliate |
| Wait |
| No your not boy |
| 'cuz I’m a Hot Boy |
| Nine milli cock boy |
| Chopper gunnin' |
| Hoes scared of slugs, runnin' |
| Start movin', me and Juve (Juvenile) e be comin' |
| We left yo' brain sick |
| Up with a chopper (A.K. 47) splittin' the bricks |
| A young black crucifix |
| Up in the dirt I be knockin' dicks |
| Smooth and beretically, my pockets |
| Rocket |
| To six figures |
| And polverizin' niggas |
| Pullin' |
| A.K.'s and two triggers |
| My potn’s stand on the side of me |
| They only come out at night |
| Them deamons got me on a flight |
| Duck tapin' and takin' life |
| Or even worse |
| It could be three O’clock, on a Sunday by church |
| Yo' brains might have to burst |
| You shouldn’t have fucked with me first |
| Since them bullets was cappin' |
| Adam’s apples I’m scoutin' |
| Got richer penintentiary ward |
| For the national guard to come get 'em |
| Very seldom do you see me, when you do |
| What do you do |
| Bust back, better be a head shot |
| If not it’s you |
| I’m comin' around the corner |
| 'bout to pulla meatball on ya' |
| Purses like a coat |
| And them houses in calico |
| Me and Lil Turk heard of a merger |
| On a murder |
| Fifty G’s (grand) on his head |
| What ht fuck did you said |
| Fifty G’s (grands) for sure |
| That nigga live next door |
| Call the man |
| Let the sucker plan |
| Look, I fuck with this rap shit, but I ask 'em don’t say no more |
| A Hot Boy representin' this bitch like black and Moe |
| I start to poppin' |
| Niggas start to droppin' |
| I’m havin' fatal thoughts, i think I’m fuckin' shell shockin' |
| Niggas bangin' |
| Four-five ringin' |
| In my ear, I’m not scared |
| 'cuz I’m a solja and solja’s have no fuckin' fear |
| In my sleep at night |
| I’m seeing war fights |
| Wakin' up thinkin' that a nigga took my fuckin' life |
| Unnecessary shit |
| Mind clickin' like a light switch |
| To pick you up on any nigga or any bitch |
| Don’t give a fuck |
| Steady bangin' and dodgin' |
| Camoulflagin' |
| With the mack alive and |
| Don’t have time for these dog hoes |
| Goin' through a stage with that chop (Chopper) and that four-four |
| What’s this shit I hear 'bout you boys potna’s in crime |
| If that’s true I’ll punish you bitches for the last time |
| Now you gon' shine? |
| Let me put somethin' on ya' mind |
| Lil' cowards takin' hits |
| And protecting shit |
| It’s a for sure thang |
| I’m a brang |
| Or I’m a wet ya |
| Best to be 'bout yo' business, if not, God bless ya |
| Look, what makes you think that two-two-six wasn’t strong |
| That’s when we do ya wrong |
| They both come and they gone |
| Off-toppers |
| I’m a get with you and ya' potna’s (patners) |
| T.C., L.D., and Williard street with choppers |
| Drama hittin' a niggas cash |
| We play it right though |
| I’m comin' to get a niggas ass |
| Like I’m them white folks |
| Look, better be 'bout it |
| If not better be rowdy |
| It’s all in yo' mind, ha? |
| You gon' shine, ha? |
| I doubt it |