| My niggas thug out
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| You getting drugged out
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| These bitches getting loc’ed out
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| When we smoke out, cos we chromed out
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| About to bomb out
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| Here ye, here ye, calling all the hawgs
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| Fresh outta the whole tank, bouncin up the walls
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| Dub-cee! |
| The bandana president, with the gauge on the ghetto
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| Rollin through y’all residents
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| Runnin the scene this is the king of the cars
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| Thugged out baby in my new busta’s
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| Gangstas, all of them gangstas, none of them let me see up
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| Ridaz throw ya heaterz up
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| Ladies, OG’z, sorry that I’ve been gone
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| But now I’m back to get my walk on!
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| Swang with the game as I reach out and touch ya
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| Turn the cup up and get ignorant on this motherfucker
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| «Mayday, mayday!» |
| back in charge
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| Dip, skip through the lane with the bang, bang, bang, jangle
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| Hoppin' out the SS workin' all them angles
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| Dub-shiest deep the scrilla, and ive got my homeboy
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| Hell yeah, the motherfucking villain
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| 1 to the 2 to the 3 to the +Hello+
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| Look at these g’z working these fake ass sopranos
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| Here come the Villain with another heater
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| With motherfucking Dub nigga in the two-seater
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| On my nuts while I west west y’all
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| Grab that microphone and I test test y’all
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| Villian baritone be like all over y’all
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| Who wanna ball with that Black nigga Ren?
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| Like the Don Mega I’m supreme hustling
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| Dub-cee! |
| Give a fuck if these bitches don’t love me
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| Yeah!
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| I wanna bang, I wanna ride
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| I wanna slang, from the side, do it now
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| It’s do or die
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| We can ball till the wheels fall off
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| And let these motherfuckers know they gotta peel us off
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| Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
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| Upon em again and I’m er running em again, look at it
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| With da-da-da-day, with da-da-da-day
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| Dub rock it; |
| let your flag hang from your back pocket
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| Draw on em, on em, on em can’t none of em
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| Eat with me, eat my style but y’all can’t get rid of me
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| I heard y’all C-Walking now, yeah who taught you?
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| What you could say who?
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| Nigga why-I-I-I-I-I oughta smack all the spit out of you!
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| Beat the shit out of you! |
| Get at em dumping, stomping
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| Dippin in the 600, saggin in my overalls blunted
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| Finger and thumb it, quick run
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| This gangsta shit Dub-Cee runnin
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| Here son, steady pumping I come through punking
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| Y’all think y’all rollies, shooting them highstyles like Kobe
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| So shut up and kneel to these Westside parolees
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| And pass the blunt, cos none of ya’ll can hold it
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| We got the niggas (we got the bitches)
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| We got the killaz (we got the riches)
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| We got the dealers (we hit the switches)
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| We got every fucking thing you want
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| And we can get it punk ass nigga, if we don’t
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| Who that nigga that you fucking with?
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| When you want to hear some motherfucking nigga shit
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| Call the villain and I’ll bring hot lyric
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| Waltonville to hit your bitch nigga ren with it
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| Y’all need to quit it
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| This shit legendary, fuck around with it and yo mama get buried
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| Your first born and that bitch you just married!
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| Who give a fuck pop that baby she just carried
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| Hubbin' all black like my fucking skin tone
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| How the fuck you gon talk about the villain, you a clone
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| Bitin every time you bust, who gave all y’all balls to cuss?
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| Weak motherfuckers better say us!
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| So +If it Ain’t Ruff+, it ain’t my shit
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| Might a bit mad at the bitch that ate my dick
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| Hate my clique, bitch-man cos I won’t hit
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| A nigga that I ain’t fucking wit!
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| Please Beelive it, please beelive it, please believe it
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| Awww man gimme one mo' sip of that cognac! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wanna Ride , by - WC. Song from the album Ghetto Heisman, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп