D-X-L (Hard White)

[Verse 1: Styles P]

Holiday Styles, bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck

If I ain't gettin' proper respect

I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill

I don't give a fuck, never have, never will

If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die

I ain't tryna be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky

Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie

We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time

My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes

Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble

Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble

I put sixteen above your neck, I love my set

Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (Uh-huh)

'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (What)

You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O

You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast

[Verse 2: Sheek Louch]

Yo, ayo, ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool

And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school

No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God

Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard

My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong

What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song

Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair

Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair

And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear

I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew

Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you

You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?

I'm tryna leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die

From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky

I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga

Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?

[Verse 3: Jadakiss]

Yo, yo, yo, yo, all I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick

A nice house with five rooms, maybe six

A town where money is comin', eighty bricks

Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip

Bet you never even felt the heat

'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease

Streets help niggas; niggas don't help the streets

Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats

Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?

If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three

Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox

Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (Uh)

All types of burners, even snub Glocks (Uh)

Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (Uh)

Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (Uh)

It's Jada, *mwwaa*

Responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)

Uh

[Verse 4: Drag-On]

Creep through the streets, for some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard

Me the Security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard

Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol

Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off

And take casket naps, fuck that

You shoulda never let this bastard rap

All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel

No parents, tell from my auras, no morals

Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance

So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'

Drag's fire; so your hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em

Drag done ate your food

Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up

Drag barrels, the shit I spit'll bubble your skin up

Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well

I don't brag I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell

[Verse 5: DMX]

Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (Uh)

Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak

You wanna hear it? I make it speak (What?!)

You ain't ever bust a gun

B but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (Uh-huh)

What the science behind that son? (I don't know) A lot of easy walking

I bust shit down (Uh), got down (Uh)

Kick down (Uh), shot down (Uh)

Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)

I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (Come on)

And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (Uh)

It can get "Dark" for real, and I think you already know that (Uh-huh)

Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that

Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle

All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo)

It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas

Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)

From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight

Let them cats spit that weak shit (What) I'm dog for life, nigga

[Outro: Styles P & Sheek Louch]

They gon' need

Extra guns and extra blocks

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra jails and extra cops

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra pits and extra Glocks

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra chains and extra watches

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra guns and extra blocks

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra jails and extra cops

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra pits and extra Glocks

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde

They gon' need

Extra chains and extra watches

They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde