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The Game

"Ride Or Die"


You gone ride or die?


All my n*ggas gone bust they guns
Real mother f*ckers never trust n*ggas, but we trust our guns
Get money is the code of the streets
Live by it, and they say the hotter the bullets, the colder the streets
Like the older the hammer, the older the beef
You holding the can and you busting or you die with your heat
Me and my n*ggas gone survive in the street
For one reason, we ain't living to kill n*ggas, just dieing to sleep
I'm in the hood and I ain't wear a vest
Push a stock GTO, with a pump in the seat and a desert eagle in the head rest
Live and I took 5, get respect cause I won't die
So its a bet that I'm gone ride

[Chorus: x2]
I'm riding dog, you riding with me? (ride with me)
If I'm frying dog, you frying with me? (fry with me)
If I'm dieing dog, you dieing with me? (die with me)
Just know when the beef come, we all busting our guns (what?)

We can beef, I don't give a f*ck, any street, stoop or block
Compton, New York City of Rocks
You ain't never been out the hood? don't go to far
12 gauge shotty, with a pump like Joe Dumar's
Shells the size of Sprewell lugs, go through cars
Rip apart your new Bentley n*gga, like Dre sent me
The haze in me make me wanna kick back
Your man work out at bally's, put the 38 to a 6 pack
And beef keep the E.R full til the sh*t packed
No more rooms? let em die in the streets
Im from the CPT, where n*ggas dieing to eat
Them n*ggas with scars under they left eye and they cheek
Park a 745 on your street
Like mother f*cker if you don't ride with me, you can die with the enemy
Or die like the Kennedy's n*gga
I empty desert clips out like a bottle of Hennessy n*gga

[Chorus: x2]
I got n*ggas that'll beef for the game
Run up on your man, splat his brain then bring you his chain
So if you owe my hood, you better pay up
I roll with killas, that'll put you in a hole like a lay up
Ain't no sleep on the block, my n*ggas stay up
Cause they ain't trying to miss sales
They trying to tip over fish scales
Be in the XXL, and its only 6 street rappers if you wanna be real
That go for the whole industry you b*tch ass n*ggas
Say my name in a verse if you ready to die
I call up my Harlem n*ggas on the i95
10 minutes later you dead on the I95
Aftermath mother f*cker, we ain't playing this sh*t
50, work ride, Joe, Cube, the Game and Em
Its our house and we in the front yard
So f*ck with the Dr. and get picked apart like junk yards

[Chorus: x2]

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