Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song I'm A Ruff Ryder , by - Styles. Release date: 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 |