I'm A Ruff Ryder Lyrics - Singles - Styles

Talk, Holiday Styles, S-P or whatever you choose 

A pound of weed, four guns and a liter of booze 

Chew niggas out they shoes, what 

Come and fuck with me, I can guarantee you'll be makin' the news 

P flows like no nigga, twenty-six but I'm a old nigga 

Don't make me fuck around and show niggas 

How to leave a room flat, twenty niggas dead 

No money, no jewels, bullets in they head 

Ain't a nigga you know could fuck with the god 

I said that was just a hobby, gun bustin' the job 

But the sickest niggas out is the bitchest niggas out 

And I could take em on the street and straight whip 'em in the house 

Come through in the prettiest Porshe, the grittiest wars 

State gotta talk till the city get hoarse 

I'm the icin' on the cake, gangsta of the state 

Guns, money you wait, who you fuckin' wit' dog? 

[Chorus] 

Uh, I'm a Ruff Ryder 

Weed smokin, gun totin' heroin supplier 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

On the low dog, no phone calls, got my shit wired 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire 

I just deal with the tension and stress 

Understand I'm from the School of Hard Knock and my suspension is death 

I keep the P-89 twenty shot in the coat 

Better squeeze soon as you see me, you plottin to loat 

I'm a little more than itchy 

Motherfucker, when it's time to splatter your mask I burst your kidneys 

So go head and get your sons on me 

Like I give a fuck, like I'm givin' up I got four guns on me 

Get down and dirty, all by my lonely 

I leave your brains on your block all around your homies 

Live by the code of honor, stay holdin' armor 

I treat beef like a album I promote the drama 

Stay bustin' a hammer, sweatin' a smile 

And I make sure these motherfuckers'll regret when I'm wildin' 

I'm the hustler on the block 

With money on his mind and some bricks in his hand, P can't be stopped, what 

[Chorus] 

You're dealin' with the ghost of the past 

You could sleep if you want, and get fucked with this toast in your ass 

I'm the gangsta and a gentleman, I hope you the best 

And tell you play the front seat and then choke you to death 

Throw the gun to the chair try to open your chest 

Get blood on the driver's face, window and dash 

Burn the car with the body in it, bring you to ash 

I get down on a hit like I'm Sigel the cold 

That nigga sniffed up yo coat I could bring you his nose 

If he stole money from you P could bring you his hands 

The nigga talk too much I bring the ears of his fans 

Need weed to calm down, need money to leave light 

Fuck a watch cause my time is tickin' 

Fuck a chain I'm already hangin' 

Fuck a gang I'm already bangin' 

Robbin niggas is my only form of steady payment 

Play it sweet I might be in your house 

L-O-X black mob Holiday and I'm out 

What, bitch 

[Chorus] 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

Weed smokin, gun totin' heroin supplier 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors 

I'm a Ruff Ryder 

You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire 

I'm a Ruff Ryder, uh, fagots