lirik lagu jim jones - we ridin'
[intro: 40 cal]
yea, yea
turn my mic up, b, gotta (uh) feel this
40 cal, dipset
uh, capo
right one in (yea) the buildin’
yea
[verse 1: 40 cal]
yo, don’t you know we body ya man? (body ya man)
what he said? run it by me again
it’s the movie when you die in the end (uh)
i’m the director, playing that n~gga to wet ya
say “cut, roll, tape” ain’t the movie projector (nah)
it’s the dude rollin’ tapes that be movin’ the stretchers
but n~ggas like you want it wearing blood on they sweaters
when i spark you, leave you, show your crew the part two, preview
givе your fans [?] [?] the sequel
it’s 40 cal, n~gga, (uh) [?] lеthal
red dot your dome like r2~d2, i don’t
argue with people, handle business like suge
while you [?] funeral home, business is good (?)
casket is wood and the music is slow, ride him off [?] while embalming fluid is low
i’m a basket case, closed casket wake (uh~huh)
i refer you to rev run or pastor ma$e, you should’a
pass your cake it was your last mistake
didn’t tell you i sit on chrome like masta ace (masta ace)
and i don’t mean the truck (nah)
it’s the chrome under seat that’s tucked to get buck just a [?] act tough
n~gga we ride (yea)
[chorus: jim jones]
we ridin’
we rollin’
[?]
and what we holdin’
big k’s, ya’ll
sk’s ya’ll
ak blast
let’s [?]
[verse 2: jim jones]
puff, you know i bang with the best of them (yea)
i play the corners and i hang with the rest of them, uh (eastside)
know it’s colors we bang, you know my brothers a bang (blaaaat, blaaaat) and ain’t no love for the other side [?] [?]
let’s calash like a motherf~cker (uh)
and when we bang, bullets blast (keep your eyes open) on these motherf~ckers
i’m creepin’ low (uh) i got my spanish, they don’t speak no english, screamin’ out [?]
they got the heaters low, i see ya scheming low
and watch ya mouth, f~cker
and when you talkin’ to a g, roll with me or rolling the weed, when i
roll in the streets n~ggas know i’m a g, uh [?] [?]
and get our picture, n~gga (yeah)
i say a scripture, n~gga
don’t f~ck wit a n~gga that blow the fifth on n~ggas
i could preform the same day [?] [?] the same day that lil [?] got pop (’97)
the back park smokin’ reefer, that pot
i’m buggin’ out and i was tweakin’ to pac, (a h~ll razor) i can’t lie
one of those guys is coming outside, my gun in the [?] is runnin’ on high, woooo ([?] [?], n~gga)
[?] [?] and dumpin’ on guys, one of those [?] jumped in the side, my pump in the ride, puffin’ on lye
[chorus: jim jones & cardan]
we riders, eastsiders
drive~byers and we’ll fire
we rollin’, car stolen, and what we holdin’, automatic weapons, ya’ll
9mm, 40 cal’ll blast, n~gga that’s yo ass, when the k’ll pop
sk is hot
ak for real
we’ll spray the steel
straight at your grill (yea)
[verse 3: cardan]
[?] mo ‘gain, back up in this muhf~cker
i’m strapped, [?] got them gats up in this muhf~cker
i don’t talk, (nah) i live these streets and i could teach a lil homie how to k!ll these beats, i’m so gangsta
i’m from harlem’s no problem, we starving, we catch a n~gga
beat him up and rob him, but no thank ya
two inches, i spank ya, you think that you could but you can’t ’cause you w~nksta but
don’t let me lose you, (uh) or try to confuse you when i let off with this uzi and shoot straight through your isuzu (do~do~do~do) (uh)
it’s harlem world and i’ma rep to the fullest, you gettin’ stepped to with bullets, i pull that tech out and pull it, uh
nother homicide, (cide)
[?] momma’s fry (fry)
his momma cry, left his homie all traumatized
must’ve been out his mind, ([?]) he just got outta line
[?] seen the [?] do that sh~t to a lotta guys, so we ride
[outro: jim jones]
we ride
yeah
you know who this is, man
eastside rider ’till i die, ’till the wheels fall off, g’s up in this b~tch!
dipset, capo status, aka the kufi smacker, i’m a rider
got young cardy with me
cardy, you know i’m a hold you down forever, harlem in this b~tch
i know you rep the [?] and i know what they rep, they riders
40 cal
you told me you seen what you go through on the corners, n~gga
let me tell you, you see what i went through on the corners, n~gga
so i’m a certified g out this b~tch, n~gga
g’s up, hoes down, eastside ’till i die
ride, ’till the wheels fall off and all my soldiers behind the g wall
keep ya head up
dipset
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