| I’m pushin for the single yo, c’mon
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| Yo lock the door, uh huh
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| Ya heard, uh, uh
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| C’mon, yeah
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| Y’all know who it is, or should I say what it is
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| Uh, uh
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| All Drag do is fuck bitches, and drain his body
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| Kickin bitches out the bed and sleep next to a shottie
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| A bitch’ll never get me pump, I make niggas pump IV
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| I’m the type to follow the cops wit a midget drivin me
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| Make them think the car drivin itself, and I’m in the passenger seat
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| Signal lights, stashbox, a package of D
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| Drag dash, I’m happy to be
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| On, this rap shit is like a jacket to me
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| I wear it with cracks in my sleeves
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| So I keep it on, don’t never take my jacket off cuz my shit be gone
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| What are you, lost your mind?
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| It took my time to cut these dimes
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| So I could dump drug a few minds, so don’t make me bust a few nines
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| Dip the T T in polish watch the shoe shine
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| Slip in the Tunnel with a banger in my bootline
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| All it takes is the finger to make a sour sit, linger
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| Double R is hard, the rest of y’all is R & B singers
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| WEED
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| That’s what we smokin up
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| HOES
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| That’s what we pokin up
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| DOUGH
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| That’s what we foldin up
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| That’s all we know about
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| I got more bullets in my clip, than chocolate got in chip
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| I got more bitches suckin dick, than niggas smokin niks
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| I got more shit up in my whip, than most niggas got in cribs
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| I got more, blocks of raw while y’all tryin to stop wars
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| Coward nigga lock your doors
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| I’ll come through with the locksmith and pop it
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| With the Glock 4 and show y’all what a mouth’s for
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| I got black steel, blue steel, wheels, I mean wheelchair
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| Cuz Drag is real fair, it’s all real here
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| I own more buildings on my block, than real estate, philly ave
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| Hit ten niggas I’m tryin to see mils like Billy Gates
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| Cuz me in Philly rollin dutches
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| Me and Eve, stuck off the trees, got her laughin off bitches' weaves
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| Double R, pop niggas, make niggas bleed
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| Fiends come to me my top rock’s been asleep
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| Seven foot bouncers bout to be six feet, under me
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| Now that’s a foot left, you shouldn’t have took that step
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| I know y’all wish y’all woulda, shoulda, coulda
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| Didda, getta, gotta, guns we cock it then pop it
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| Make 'em holler and swallow
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| Niggas stop it, catch it, all up in his jacket
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| I’m not a stingy nigga, I’ll let a nigga have it
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| Hate chips that go away, lookin like white coke
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| Sit in the sun long, come back like french toast
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| Hair was up, now is down, eyes are black, now is brown
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| Used to frown, now you smile, nigga must have left you now
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| Went from bikes to the car, from the cars to the boat
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| Went from keys to the coke, went from coke to the dope
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| Went from cracks to the raps, went from bats to the gats
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| Went from slums to the stats, been to London and back
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| Me change cuz I rap, I can’t do it
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| I went from muggin y’all to payin niggas to do it
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| It’s all the same stupid
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| I got cake on cake, cuz I went from pow to pow
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| Wit my family, two R’s, Ryde or Die |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Weed, Hoes, Dough , by - Ruff Ryders. Song from the album Ryde Or Die Vol. II, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп