Ride
Hip-Hop/Rap
Jul 28, 1998
26
Ride Music Video

Ride Lyrics

[Chorus]
Eye for an eye; eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die
Eye for an eye; eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die
Eye for an eye; eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die
Eye for an eye; Eye for an eye; ride or you die; ride or you die

[Celly Cel]
Won't leave the house unless I'm strapped up
I might get backed up in the traffic
Niggas is dumping on me when I got my zapper
Creeping up on me when I had one hand on the wheel
One hand on the steel, trying to break a nigga's thinking
Ride with shoot, sharpening skills for season whatever the reason
I'm dealing with drama; send one of them bitchez-ass niggas
Crying to Mama; I kicking the door to alleviate the whole situation
Fuck with me, he ended up having his whole family erased
Face it, no charges, leaving the body until you better respect game
Fuck that, when niggas spill fuck your hood
When your caught up in a twist flash on us, you'll end up sleeping
With the fish singing, shoes honey singing
Them blues and them sad ballads
Fried colla greens and potato salads
So rounded them up; so many family member crying
Eye for an eye, you ride or you die

[Chorus]

Niggas get itching when you run back at them
And let them bullets fly

[C-Bo]
He moved one; oh, moved back on the piggies; hit'em up and buck
And leave them struck when I'm dictation love for the thugs
That die for this shit with a hundred fifty round, drive
For this shit, fuck the hard hats and locs; pass the fo' fo'
And watch me smoke them hos like the last hitter indoer
Fo' sho', smash and blast, nigga, when I'm provoked
With a loaded magnum coke, I'm down

[Celly Cel]
Why you smiling when these niggas and bitches be playing games?
In the street is where they meet the heat
That's where they sweep their ass up off their feet
This ain't no fairy-tale; you fucking with Cel
Hit the scenes with machines if you want my team
There ain't no in-between seventeen in that place
When your crossing the realest
Niggas is business; kill this shit on the mic
And make the world feel us hit them with rounds; hollow tips
When we're finished, niggas chop they ass up
Till they fully out of...

[Chorus]

Niggas get itchy when you run back at them
And let them bullets fly

[C-Bo]
I ain't no actor, bitch; my life is worser than the movies
For real though, from steel toes to my uzi pushers
Impala S.S., Benz Beamer, to Lamborghinis and chase my strip
With X.O. Henn and Remi Rolex on my wrist; hundred bill, crisp
I pull a blunt from my lit forty-five from my hip and spit
Incredible, medical hardcore; the deadliest metaliest
Gas ever set off in a war; westcoast, the spot where
We making millin dollar noise; survival in heck-packing heat
Ducking from them, I'm just a thug nigga, step on your street
And draw my heat then I plug niggas I be a G
From the G.B.C., I mug niggas; don't flag, I just sag
And carry a mag and get off in the snitches' asses
You a bitch, but still ride or die, screaming out the block

[Chorus]

Niggas get itchy when you run back at them
And let them bullets fly

Writer(s): GRAHAM VERNON MASSEY, GERALD RYDEL SIMPSON, MARK L. ADAMS, MARK F. HICKS, GEORGE CURTIS JONES, RAYMOND GUY TURNER, STEPHEN C. WASHINGTON, DANIEL WEBSTER, STARLEANA YOUNG
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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