Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): Jermaine Dupri, Mason Betha, Sean Cross, Kasseem Dean
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Ruff RydersPlatinum Plus Lyrics:
[Jermaine Dupri]
uh-huh, yea-yeah, yeah, yeah,
yeah, (tell 'em who we is)
yeah, yeah, yeah
They call me, when thay wanna get they dough up
Call me, when they wanna see shit blow up
Freessshhh
from the floor up
And ya know what? I'm sick wit it
the shit don't slow up
I'ma see it, want it, drop it, cop cat
Get it, stay on it, don't stop cat
In the big chair wit the big hat
screamin' "Y'all wanna floss
wit us?"
Where the fuck you at? From the south side, ruff ryde
No one will
Fuckin wit us, is a done deal
And y'all gotta hate huh?
'Cuz it's to much weight for one
And y'all ain't havin' no fun
Got a whole beat team tryin' to do what I do
Whole street team tryin' do what I do
Like what? Double countin' me out?
Forget it, i'm the best that ever done
it, need to check and reck
[Chorus: JD and Cross together]
(uh, uh, uh, uh)
Ruff Ryders, be on tours for this
All Out, make ya dance 'til ya fall out
So So Def make it hot to death
You ain't platinum plus? You ain't fuckin' wit' us
Ruff Ryders, be on tours for this
All Out, make ya dance 'til ya fall out
So So Def make it hot to death
You ain't platinum plus? You ain't fuckin' wit' us
[Cross]
Now, money ain't never been a thing ta me
I'm down 8th with the brand new cinammon 3
OT, I got cake with a C and a D
On the wrist is a ice band capitol B, small V
I'm fuckin' with the Don Chi Chi
I'm a P-I-M-P, you can't tempt me (uh)
Check the ice and the clarity,
it's cake like the lottery
Playa don't lie ta me, your stash couldn't cover me
What a playa wannabe, neck light in risavie
Hoes, I keep those by the, dime or dozen
I like short-a-y, but i wouldn't, mind her cousin
It's a cost, take the buck and
all of them, quit fuckin
UHH!!!
[Chorus: JD and Cross together]
(uh, uh, uh, uh)
Ruff Ryders, be on tours for this
All Out, make ya dance 'til ya fall out
So So Def make it hot to death
You ain't platinum plus? You ain't fuckin' wit' us
Ruff Ryders, be on tours for this
All Out, make ya dance 'til ya fall out
So So Def make it hot to death
You ain't platinum plus? You ain't fuckin' wit' us
[Ma$e]
C'mon, C'mon, C'mon
We be the best harlem niggaz 80's to lately
Think of Po Wop, Mickey Bonz and A-Z
Fresh Ritz Zit, Kevin Giles and DB
And at the end of all tha shit niggaz still say me
I'm the best that ever did it, got a way wit it
Put grannie on the stand, she'll never say who did it
I'm from where, even the gangsta's live to,
Make a mil. on the stoop, every summer switch boots
Cats change they name, to Phil like a giant
I treat rap like packs, role dills on consignment
This is for cats hummin' crack, bitchin' and parkin'
All the grimie niggaz who got generous hearts
Got a brother doin' life, to see him is hard
Fuckin' wit mase, is like a nigga swimmin' wit sharks
My niggaz chase cake, play some infa-reds
Some niggaz in the state, some is in the feds
Spit shit at niggaz that might erase they head
And role miserable niggaz who can't wait to be dead
All Out, Ruff Ryde mothafucka, All Out
Wanna flow BEYATCH?!
[Chorus: JD and Cross together]
(uh, uh, uh, uh)
Ruff Ryders, be on tours for this
All Out, make ya dance 'til ya fall out
So So Def make it hot to death
You ain't platinum plus? You ain't fuckin' wit' us
Ruff Ryders, be on tours for this
All Out, make ya dance 'til ya fall out
So So Def make it hot to death
You ain't platinum plus? You ain't fuckin' wit' us
[Cross]
Uh, yeah
Swizz Beatz
We them niggaz in the streets
All Out, JD
Who you with?
Double R mothafucka, uh
uh-huh, yeah, yeah
Cross
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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