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