Ruffest Ryders

[Intro: Sheek Louch] The present! Yo, yo, yo! [Verse One: Sheek Louch] Ayo if gon' sleep on something, might as well be a bed And if you gon' crack a nigga, might as well be a head Cause if you targeting 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 ain't got blocks, ?llabuta? muchacha From the days in school, now a motherfucker rule And I could drop my chain in coffee and keep shit 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, ain't 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 [Verse Two: Jadakiss] Ayo I hope you ain't tongue-kissin your spouse Cause I be makin love in her in the mouth Type of cat 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 people was watchin movies on Beta Ready to clap, everybody givin me that Cause believe it or not, we be the ones settin the traps You listen to y'all hits, then listen to our hits Ain't nuttin y'all cowards could do but gossip That's the reason now y'all players ain't got chips Cause everytime I turn around y'all on the L.O.X. dick Niggas thats narrow, I just smack em wit the barrel Give it to em at the light, like Kane's cousin Abel [Chorus: All (DMX)] The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! [Verse Three: Styles P] Catch you and your son, ya know when its done Show me the money, I show you a gun, cocksucker SP'll spin corner while you party with dun I clap you I clap him, and thats rule number one Suckin' my clip! And I don't give a hell what you spit Who you are, where you from, and who the hell you can get Cuz I sell records, plus I got a jail record Ya niggas ain't sayin' shhhh until ya'll bare weapons Im 3 years older than 20, holdin a Henney Can rip a dolla bill but can't fold up a penny Wanna murder Styles cocksucka load up the semi Im at your baby mom house, on the steps climbed out Like you played the don out, bout to rip your arms out You done screwed up and did it, tryin to act like you with it Came two in ur short sleeves, three in your fitted And even when you dead, you can still flinch and get it A ryda that'll smack ya, cock back and clap ya Styles P ya favorite rapper's favorite rapper [Verse Four: Eve] Ain't no surprise killaz, only fuck wit recognized killaz Babygirl want the world, gave ya pies killaz No tops, take em in all shape and size niggas No lie, prefer them ready do or die killaz 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 uhhh... [Chorus: All (DMX)] The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders! [Verse Five: 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 niggas 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 [Verse Six: DMX] It's my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the water Everyday I show another how a lover 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 can't 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 Wasted, 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, when niggas shot, one nigga less What used to be his chest is now a mess under his fuckin vest