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Drag On

Genres: Hip-Hop

Ryde Or Die Lyrics - Drag On

[Sheek] 

Yo if gon' sleep on somethin, might as well be a bed 

And if you gon' crack a nigga, might as well be a head 

Cause if you targettin the L.O.X. 

You might as as well target a box 

That you gon' sleep in for years, all covered wit rocks 

Cause I think not, I pop shots, I double what y'all got 

Ya hotshots aint got blocks, ya punta muchacha 

From the days in school, now a motherfucker rule 

And I could drop my chain in court, yeah, keeps ya cool 

That's how ice be, I'm priceless, the iciest 

And I dont gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chest 

My bullets thump when I'm laced in some fly shit, punk 

The baby nine be on the daily, aint no poppin a trunk 

But if I pop the trunk, its to hand you a rag 

So you can wipe down the windows on the side of my Jag 

Must I brag? My shit paid for, yours tagged 

And every bitch you grabbed, Sheek bend em back 

 

[Jadakiss] 

Ayo I hope you aint tongue-kissin your spouse 

Cause I be fuckin her in the mouth 

Type of nigga buck at your house 

Too slick, means she be suckin my dick 

And before you know it, I'ma have her stuffin my bricks 

Jada, if I kiss you now, you'll die later 

I been nice since niggaz was watchin movies on Beta 

Ready to clap, everybody givin me gats 

Cause believe it or not, we be the ones settin the traps 

You listen to y'all shit, then listen to our shit 

Ain't nuttin y'all faggots could do but gossip 

That's the reason now y'all niggaz ain't got shit 

Cause everytime I turn around y'all on the L.O.X. dick 

Niggaz thats narrow, I just smack em wit the barrel 

Give it to em at the light, like Kane's cousin Harold 

 

Chorus: repeat 4X 

 

The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders 

 

[Styles] 

Fuck you and your son, y'all low wit the scum 

Show me the money, I'll show you a gun, motherfucker 

SP'll spin the corner while you parle' with dun 

I clap you, I clap him, and thats rule number one 

Suckin my dick, and I dont give a fuck what you spit 

Who you are, where you from, and who the fuck you can get 

Cause I sell records, plus I got a jail record 

Y'all niggaz ain't sayin shit until y'all bare weapons 

And even when you dead, you can still fuckin get it 

A nigga that'll smack ya, fuck around and clap ya 

Styles P., your favorite rapper's favorite rapper 

 

[Eve] 

Aint no surprise niggaz, only fuck wit recognized niggaz 

Babygirl want the world, gave ya pies niggaz 

No tops, take em in all shape and size niggaz 

No lie, prefer them ready do or die niggaz 

What? What you want? cutey starin at me like 

"Damn, where you from?" You be comin at me like 

"Can I get some?" Lick your lips for this brown sugar 

Suck mine like a thumb, if you want, til I come, uh 

 

-Chorus- 

 

[Drag-On] 

I be the D-R, A-G, dash O-N, slash often 

Comma, burnin niggas often 

They call me Drag-On, I'm hot scorchin 

Keep the block roastin 

Light a dutch wit the flames comin, toastin 

In my eyes you could see what summer's holdin 

Realizin, every guy I'll fry or dead rowdy 

I burn to a degree of 130, and my gun dirty 

Cause it got one bury, so you better run, hurry 

Or catch one early 

You wrong, tryin to touch me, what type of shit you on? 

You better through your boots on and your unflammable suits on 

Cause I'm comin through wit a Yukon 

Black tinted wit gats in it 

Catch you while you smokin, send your casket, throw the sack in it 

But only half of it, cause y'all like half-ass dude 

And we are one whole, and y'all niggaz is one slash two 

My gun blast you, tryna out the flames, what're you, firemen? 

You'll catch a hell of a backdraft 

cause my fire retirin, aight then 

 

[DMX] 

Its my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the water 

Everyday I show another how a I love a slaughter 

Flood your daughter, full of more holes than spurges 

Taxin businessmen for stocks over lunches 

Wit these, I shoot the breeze, and extort 

Enough keys from the Cuban, to build a fuckin fort 

Caught up in somethin that I cant control 

Tryna get a hold of a bankroll, let's role 

Catch bodies like a cold, and I stay slick so face it 

Make me chase it, I take your life and erase it 

Waste it, in the fuckin streets cause it ain't worth shit 

The undertaker take your ass under the earth quick, I 

Love money, but the scrambles hot 

So i snatch up my man and the gamblin spot 

Twenty grand is got, one niggaz shot, one nigga less 

What used to be his chest is now a mess under his fuckin vest 

Writer: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright: Atv Music Publishing Llc, Warner, Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony