*(Yukmouth)*
Yes!
(Uh!)
Yes!
Welcome!
(Thug niggas throw yo turf in the air!)
Smoke-A-Lot up in this bitch!
(Throw yo hood in the air!)
A-G-2 the Ke, DMG, yes!
Let's kick this anthem shit.
Chorus *(Yukmouth)*
All of my niggas Ridaz
small time grindas, pimps and big timers
whether it's heron or hemp wit China
I'm not a bitch on the strip sellin vagina.
(Come on, come on)
Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)*
Nigga I'm always into somethin
if I can't beat yo ass then I'm dumpin
give a nigga the pumpkin head deluxe
then come back an shoot up they whole fuckin function
we funkin
rootin-tootin, smokin on blunts wit skunk until a nigga malfunction
get in the coupe and punch it
niggas be funkin for nothin
fuckin the game, another nigga done lost his name for side bustin
fire somethin
puffin
I put it up in the air
you niggas live to die hustlin, I'm fuckin wit playas from every where
from Las Vegas to Delaware on down to there
I'm a thousandaire
mackin bitches, draggin Ў®em down the strip juss by they hair
like ";Oh dear!";
Where the fuck is money? Don't go there
I leave yo ass stuck, hungry starvin in the middle of no fuckin where
I swear
cut off your privlage like welfare
Section 8, Smoke-A-Lot'll stay placed in Berlin
by the end of 9-8, hell yeah
then I'll be straight
fuck off a hundred G's and still got money up in the safe
Ridaz nigga!
*(Chorus)* 2x
Verse 2 *(G-Mone of A-G-2-A-Ke)*
Go inside the twitchin, missin, my mission I vision the hit
suckas keep watchin yo mental mix is gettin twisted
Who is this? In the kitchen wit fixings for the come up
servin rocks on the block til it get hot snitch we ridin on ya
bitch we Ridaz
remind ya that niggas high
if I introduce you to the ditch, you don't wanna die
is the hit
smoke, drank already lit
caulkin my shit
Who you think you fuckin wit?
I said recognize the mutha fuckin Mobb hoe
I don't know nothin, juss heard poppin by the door
Who flipped you in the river did you see G Mone in the ";O";
by the ???
flippin this A-G-2-A mutha fuckin Ke
you best believe we rob yo spot
Why not? We Rap-A fuckin Lot
owe us some paper
there's no reason for us to not glock
posted wit yo mouth open hopin that I don't squeeze
wit a swift chopped up to his knees
say where the cheese?
We Ridaz!
*(Chorus)* 2x
Verse 3 *(Yukmouth)*
I'm juss a Y.G.
who snuck in the gamblin shacks
scramblin crack wit niggas who did more years than Geronimo Pratt
killas wit hands on they gats, mutha fuckin murder fo' hire
Mobb attire, pupils dialated, nigga hog tied in barb wire
torture, squeeze a niggas nuts wit plyers
put his place on fire
then escape juss like McGuyver wit the get-away driver
live and direct from the projects that be gated
on some made shit
Outlaw affiliated!
He chose to spray wit gages
baraccaded the scene, yellow tape and white chalk
niggas who like doe, I get paid off
fuck a write-off
it's tax free money
deliver 'em a China up inside a Taxi honey
task be lookin at me funny
know I'm a trigga happy, gats be hungry
barkin on niggas like DMX