Swizz Beatz: 

We know y'all out to drink 'til y'all throw up 

We know y'all sittin' on 20's 

We know y'all reppin' your hood 

But how many y'all KILL!!! 



[Twista] 

Bounce that ass, load them cribs, 

let me see the mobbin' niggaz that, uhh, talk shit 

While these muthatfuckaz be scummy and'll go for the money, 

ready to ride when they holdin' a lick 

Thugs with the Chevy's, thugs with the trucks, 

the real gun runner never run when he bust 

Henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a 'dro blunt, 

sippin' with a fifty sack under the nuts 

Hoes with ass and no gut 

let me see you jiggle it from SIDE TO SIDE 

Niggaz if it's static, then pass me the strap, 

gonna RIDE 'Til MY RIDE 

All the hoes that'll freaky niggaz, with the 'fedi, 

let's get buck up in the club 

And all my soldiers, FALL OUT, gangstas, MOB UP 

All the homeys on the block, 

anny up on the fin and let's go get us a sack 

Serve too, we got a custom 'Lac, hustlin' pack, 

til a nigga bust, they bustin' back 

Guys that'll roll them dice and win, 

girls with 'fits that show the skin 

Real niggaz mind your best friend at the pen, 

real hoes let your best friend know about men 

Cause I be squeezin' ass 

and'll make a full glass disappear like a genie 

Move to the LOX and Beanie, 

while them hoes backin' that thang up on my weenie 

It's like no nigga in the world could see me 

when I Ruff Ryde with Drag-On 

Rollin' up big babies in a Mercedes, 

if you want herb we got bombs 



Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x) 



Gotta kick that shit for the fine bitches and all my nugz 

For the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood 

What do a nigga say when he say Drag-On and Twista (Wanna kill me) 

Gangsta (Let's ride), hustla (Feel me) 



[Drag-On] 

By know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight, 

and this kid spit fire light 

And the bitch I don' fucked like last night, 

I don't give a fuck 'bout a 2 and a half mic 

Cause the only muthafuckin' magazine that I read, 

is when I buy my gun from it 

How many bullets you could digest in that one stomach, 

I suggest y'all run from it 

And the click-click from the calico, I gotta go, 

make it pimp with a lot of hoes 

I'm the same muthafucka that's countin' that dough, 

cookin' that coke to a pot of gold 

Cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop, 

I don't care I gotta cap me a cop 

As long as I got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks 

Drag open up boots by watchin' co-op's in convo at condos 

Keep the heat up in jeeps, in case y'all creep up on me 

I run up on y'all in a cab with a meter on me 

And the only on leavin' is me 

And the only one bleedin' is you, tryin' to breeze with me 

All the Roc is E-N-Y-C-E, in the NYC with the white T 

All I really do is argue, 

double F, R-Y-D-E, D-R-A-G, to the dash O-N 

Catch me, smokin' potent, bet it leave y'all, niggaz soakin', 

with your insides open 



Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x) 



Swizz Beatz: 

ERRRRRRR!!!! 

Hold the fuck up! 

Slow down! 

Drag, Twista, listen up 

These muthafuckaz don't know what's real out here 

(They damn sure don't) 

This is volume 2 (volume 2) 

Nigga, so, get ignorent! 



Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) 



[Twista] 

Whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical 

Smokin' on tropical, achievin' all missions impossible 

When I up the block at you, I'ma pop at you 

If your momma cry there's nothin' I could do 

Should not've fucked with Mr. Illogical 

When I'm in to clubbin', clubbin', shake it don't you break it 

You booty to shapey, can't take it, wanna see you naked 

I don' drunk a boo muthafucka, so you know I'm lit up 

Everybody get up, spin witha a Twista, it's a stick up 



Drag-On (Swizz Beatz): 

This where the shit pick up, let me load this clip up, 

lust pour me some liquor, Flame-On and Twista, 

let's see if you murdered who'll miss ya 

I love the dirty south, that's why I gotta dirty mouth 

that'll burn you out 

Tell your bitch I got a dick that'll turn her out, 

especially when I tell her turn around 

I don' hurt her now 

Shit'll come back, and I think it's time to get murdered now 

I'm tired of silly clowns, spittin' out weak shit, sound like my shit 

You gon' make me pull a all nighter 

Standin' infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter 

Now hit, we won't miss ya, Drag-On and Twista 

(Puttin' it on 'em!)