Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I'm A Ruff Ryder, artist - Styles.
Date of issue: 31.12.2001
Song language: English
I'm A Ruff Ryder |
A pound of weed, four guns and a liter of booze |
Whup you niggas out they shoes, what |
Come and fuck with me, I can guarantee you’ll be makin a lose |
P flows like NO NIGGA, twenty-six but I’m a old nigga |
Don’t make me fuck around and show niggas |
How to leave a room flat, twenty niggas dead |
No money, no jewels, bullets in they head |
Ain’t a nigga you know could fuck with the god |
I said that was just a hobby, gun bust in the job |
But the sickest niggas out is the bitchest niggas out |
And I could take em on the street and straight whip em in the house |
Come through in the prettiest Porshe, the grittiest morse |
State gotta talk till the city get hoarse |
I’m the icin on the cake, gangsta of the state |
Guns, money you wait, who you fuckin wit dawg? |
Uh, I’m a Ruff Ryder |
Weed smokin, gun totin’heroin supplier |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire |
You’ll steal with the tension and stress |
Understand I’m from the School of Hard Knock and my suspension is death |
I keep the P-89 twenty shot in the coat |
Better squeeze soon as you see me, you plottin to loat |
I’m a little more than itchy |
Motherfucker, when it’s time to splatter your mask I burst your kidneys |
So go head and get your sons on me Like I give a fuck, like I’m givin up I got four guns on me Get down and dirty, all time aloney |
I leave your brains on your block all around your homies |
Live by the code of honor, stay holdin armor |
I treat beef like a album I could poke a drama |
Stay bustin a hammer, sweatin a smile |
And I make sure these motherfuckers’ll regret while I’m wildin |
I’m the hustler on the block |
With money on his mind and some bricks in his hand, P can’t be stopped, what |
You’re dealin with the ghost of the past |
You could sleep if you want, and get fucked with this toast in your ass |
I’m the gangsta and a gentleman, I hope you the best |
And tell them clear the front seat and then choke you to death |
Throw the gun to the chair try to open your chest |
Get blood on the driver’s face, window and dash |
Burn the car with the body in it, bring you the ash |
I get down on yo head like I’m Sigel the cold |
That nigga sniffed up yo coat I could bring you his nose |
If he stole money from you P could bring you his hands |
The nigga talk too much I bring the ears of his fans |
Need weed to calm down, need money to leave light |
Fuck a watch cause my time is tickin |
Fuck a chain I’m already hangin |
Fuck a gang I’m already bangin |
Robbin niggas is my only form of steady payment |
Play it sweet I might be in your house |
L-O-X black mob Holiday and I’m out |
What… bitch? |
Uh, I’m a Ruff Ryder |
Weed smokin, gun totin’heroin supplier |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
Weed smokin, gun totin’heroin supplier |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors |
I’m a Ruff Ryder |
You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire |
I’m a Ruff Ryder, uhh, faggots |