Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Sean M Lassiter, Joshua Hood, Anthony Fields, Michael Dowell
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Ruff RydersRuff Ryder All-Star Freestyle Lyrics:
[Styles P]
Ruff Ryder Three,
Time for the younger generation to blow
You know I brought my nigga with me
D-Block
(J-Hood)
Aiyo, itz J-Hood bitch respect my bars
The doctors had to piece together your face like a collage
Niggas always talk breezy till the steel come out
And slugs rip through their gums and they grill come out
Motherfuck you and fuck your mans
If I don't clap you in the dome, I'm a leave clips in your diaphragm
I'm the hood prophet
Puff purple instead of chocolate
Stay from around chumps and cowards cause they gossip
And I'm a stay on the corner like stop signs
With a pack of them creamy colored rocks and the glock nine
When you speaking of the hardest nigga, bring Hood name up
D-Block bitch, we about to have the game chained up
My words too strong, bars too powerful
And your towel can't dry you when the dumdums shower you
Your mad cause your garbage and your lyrics is boring
And your whip was made the same year you was born in
(Shizlanskey)
Listen man, don't worry how many gats this crook has
Just know I stay strapped like book bags
Bitch is shook ass
You just getting off the porch
And me? I'm just getting off in court
I could make sure your coffin bought
Why would you mention a burner?
The difference between rap and attempting to murder
Talking the shit you living and talkin the shit you heard of
You said fuck Larsiny? What is you crazy bitch?
Before you walk the streets, here's a few safety tips
Watch who you speaking bout and watch who you speaking to
The cats you speaking bout could show you what the heat could do
A respirator is what you'll be breathing through
And you got beef with who that you need toast
The closest you came to beef was meat loaf
When we pose
With bats and pea coats
Ya niggaz better be close
[Cam]
To fuck with Cam, y'all bitches better hope and dream
Every gun that I own got a scope and beam
When I approach the scene shake the dice, rook the team
Best bitch on the East Coast since Queen
Latifiah, buyreefer, fly diva
Ridin deeper
Four pound gun louder than five speaker
Spit fire, hot lava flow
Dont get twisted, I'm not one of them prada hoes
Catch me in Escada clothes, with a lot of dough
Thats not mine, itz his
I need a lot more to live
You got to get the king before the kids
How you think a bitch like me afford to live motherfucker?
[Styles P]
That's a bad bitch, Shiz, you a bad ass nigga,
Itz the younger generation,
Im killing yall, Lock, get busy on these niggaz
[Lock]
Hey look, I'm tryna to stack mad gravy
So I get birds from my crew and make Erykah Badu my "Bag Lady"
You that crazy? Squeeze, I know you ain't spitting shells
Your hand shake so much, it shows up on the Richter scale
I made the huskiest niggas look like they had sickle cell
I don't just sell bricks dawg, I got a bitch for sale
So let me find theres a nigga hatin Lock
No coffin, he get buried in the refrigerator box
God damn, I'm a hot man
I'm telling you straight up, I got my weight up, Jacob, call my wrists Roxanne
Cause if I wore it in a dark room
You and your man would hate it, Imma look animated like a cartoon
Bottom line, Im telling you that you aint fucking with me
Hard, nobody guards, you want a shot, come and get me
Im not a sucker, nor any nigga running with me
And why yall balling on wheels if they stay under fifty
[Rockstar]
Lock and Blocks the motto
Got more slow than Dr. Zhivago
Same mind state that makes a poem rock in Chicago
But I don't get my gangster from movies
I'm a rockstar, 5 star telies, running gangsters on groupies
Come through and leave a voice sick
Cause my S-type steers with a joystick
I'm the heart in my era
Listen, I lead an autistic life, paint pictures with my actions, aint no margin for error
My mates features
Leave niggas dismayed, speechless
And please dont mistake weakness for kindness
I fuck with Old Tymers
So dont make me forget that you real and catch alzheimers
Motherfucking hoes, never I spoil them
I'm known to break a bitch for reckless eyeballing
The top dawg, nigga Im the bear truth
You want to get math? Nigga Im the square root
The Rockstar
[Cassidy]
I got mean stash, you seen Cass get his thug on
I strip my bitch and kiss and get our hug on
She what I put drugs on and get my grub on
And dawg, when you park your car, put your club on
The next cat I put the snub on
Imma clap the gat till it get too hot and thats wit gloves on
You love drawing, you should go to an art school
I get my club on with the glow in the dark jewels
Trees in my shoes, polo in the dark blues
And I spark tools that the po and the narcs use
Fuckers, yall stupid or something
What's the point in pulling your joint if you ain't shootin at nothing
Dude, fronting will get you banged in the face
If you have braces then you know how the banger will taste
I'm near anything pertaining to cake
Just copped the blue lighting with the rectangular face
Easy
[Styles P]
Easy niggas,
Matter of fact
Fuck that, go hard,
Cass' show these niggas how you built,
Grab your guns, bust off
My nigga
[Cassidy]
Yeah, itz Cassidy bitch, get the name clear
I'm what you lame steer got the game scare
I buy 'caine by the square or sell it by the O, I run through snow like a reindeer
The coke kid nose red like Rudolf
I grind on the strip so hard I got blue balls
I'd rather knock a Q off then get blue off
That's how I stay on my toes like my shoes off
You dudes soft, really bitches like Ru Paul
When itz war I move out like U-Hauls
Imma true boss
I send eight balls to the corner, my strip like a pool hall
And I ball like I been in the sport
My trigger finger itching like it got genital warts
Dont play around with him boy [Whys that?]
Cause Cass is a pain in the ass like hemorrhoids
Faggot
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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