[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
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