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lirik lagu the real dead poet – ridin’ through the city

~intro~
{antidote}

~verse 1~
yeah, ayo fightin for the cash i feel like money maywether
the liquor got her tipsy, make my honey sway better
i got my hands up screamin “party over here”, my girl at the bar lookin like barbie with a beer
yo dudes wanna battle on that papa doc nonsense, bullets make ’em dance like a pop&lock contest
drop it like its hot baby p~ssy pop the tw~t, got her man hatin’ on me cuz the p~ssy not as hot
yeah i walk through the dancefloor swervin’ through the traffic, “?” got thе purple kush burnin like a match stick
i see a pretty whitе girl twerkin’ like a black chick, a maca~frama~lamma homie fresh up out the slammer
this liquor in me got me feelin brave like atlanta, eyes are bloodshot red just like the gang’s bandana
yo and i stay pimpin’ like the b~tch at don won, homie lookin for his chickin but the b~tch is long gone

~hook~
yeah im ridin’ through the city singin duap~diddy, got a b~tch on my arm and she oh so pretty got suckas hatin on me cuz my flow so witty, i just smash on they punk ass and show no pity
yo bad boy doin sh~t big no diddy, hoes come to my shows better show yo titties got the low low sittin on low~pro 20s and im loco bustin with these .44 semis

dog im ridin’ through the city {dog im ridin’ through the city} yeah im just ridin’ through the city {yeah im just ridin’ through the city}
yeah im just ridin’ through the city {yeah im just ridin through the city}
{dog im just ridin through the city}

~verse 2~
ayo im back up in the county sittin in the drunk tank, career criminal i got more points than a blood bank beating on the window bustin flows in the cell, for poet to tell it must be frozen in h~ll
yeah i walk down a beating path not too many traveled, feet movin fast steady kickin up the gravel the judge said eleven and he slammed down the gavel, instantly my life seemed to come unraveled
yo when it comes to f~cking up i am unrivaled, story of my life and this sh~t is untitled the pastor try to tell me life starts with the bible, but all i learned in prison was the art of survival
i’m fresh out the pen after walking off ten, yo im promising myself im never going back again i’m in the six deuce with my homie lover friend, smoke from the swisher sweets blowin in the wind
~hook~
yeah im ridin’ through the city singin duap~diddy, got a b~tch on my arm and she oh so pretty got suckas hatin on me cuz my flow so witty, i just smash on they punk ass and show no pity
yo bad boy doin sh~t big no diddy, hoes come to my shows better show yo titties got the low low sittin on low~pro 20s and im loco bustin with these .44 semis

~verse 3~
ayo, yo im a hip hop hustler head shop customer, catch me at the weed spot firin’ up the bubbler alcohol guzzler tippin the fifth up got yeager at the kegger homie tipsy on my fifth cup
walk around faded no longer feelin jaded, survival of the fittest still can’t believe i made it
yo pourin out my heart blood spill on these pages, time to hit the road and start k!llin these stages
thry buildin more prisons steady fillin these cages and the only thing they givin us is minimum wages
dogtown raised us, like garbage pale kids, uh, and prepared us for the hardest jail bids
yo we pourin out 40s for all the homies in the dirt blowing marijuana smoke cuz we lonely and it hurts takin hits from the bong and gettin gone in the wind smashin in the whip and got the system on ten

- lirik lagu the real dead poet

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