(feat. Juelz Santana)


Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second

True story



[Jim Jones]

Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)

From bad dreams (nightmares)

I hope the Feds don't grab the team

Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (DipSet)

We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up

Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)

Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)

And outlaws is what it made us

We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')

Until I see a ribbon in the sky

Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)

Due to my political ties

I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)

And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya

You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya

You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare

Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes

Boy you talk about my life here

Fuck wit OGs that put dice in the mirror

And they tell me that life's but a gamble

The media will turn your whole life into a scandal



[Chorus]

Put my emotions aside (why?)

Cause they can never take my alive  (no)

I'm a ride (I'm a ride)

And don't cry (don't cry)

Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)

And if I'm standing in front of the judge

Guess what?

He can never take me alive (no)

I'm a ride (I'm a ride)

And don't cry (don't cry)



[Juelz Santana]

Poured off Bentley

Looking like steroids

Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy

Maserati lookin' like a shark on land

Neiman Marcus edition, contraband

Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and

Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)

Bitches love it, niggas want it

So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)

Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge

You better stay out the forest, warning

It's Santana he fucks,

Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks

I see you clear, my antennas is up

And that hand-scale is still in my pocket

What you want? (What you want?)

Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)

Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)

Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit

Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)

Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt

Your corpse, flies will emerge



[Chorus]



[Jim Jones]

They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer

Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)

Now, do you wanna ride or die?

Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)

I'm drunk staring B

I need therapy

The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy

Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo

I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll

My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)

And it all come back, like grams of the hard

You heard of us, the murders, the most shady (DipSet)

Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)

They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants

When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)

They try to catch me out of bounds

They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)

A thug changes, and love changes

And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes



[Chorus]