Music World
 
Исполнители:
 
 
 
English versionSwitch to English 
UGK
UGK


Информация
Откуда Port Arthur, Texas, USA
Жанры Hip-hop
Southern Hip-Hop
Годы 1987—2009
Лейблы Jive Records
UGK Records
См. также Jay-Z
Slim Thug
Dizzee Rascal
Outkast
Chamillionaire
Lil' Flip
DJ Screw
Ludacris
Lil' Keke
Three 6 Mafia
Too Short
8Ball & MJG
Talib Kweli
Scarface
Сайт Website
Бывшие участники
Bun B
Pimp C



Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  U  →  UGK  →  Дискография  →  Ridin' Dirty

Альбом UGK


Ridin' Dirty (29.07.1996)
29.07.1996
1.
Intro
2.
One Day (feat. Mr. 3-2, Ronnie Spencer)
3.
4.
5.
6.
3 In The Mornin' (feat. Big Smokin Mitch)
7.
Touched (feat. Mr. 3-2)
8.
9.
That's Why I Carry
10.
11.
12.
13.
Outro
. . .

Intro

[Нет текста]

. . .



(feat. 3-2 and Ron Isley)

3-2
Mama put me out at only fourteen
So I start sellin crack cocaine and codeine
Time to stack some paper think I'm a do it quick
Thinkin I'm a juvenile but they dont know who they messin wit, yeah
My mama's only son
But I live everyday like its my muthafuckin last one
Every nigga and they mama askin why
But I'm in the game live by the game and in the game I'm a die
But if I die or should I say if I go
Bury me in Hiram Clarke next to the come and go
Cause tomorrow aint promised to me
The only thing promised to a playa is the penetentiary
So I'm a take care of my business on the smooth tip
Watch my back sellin crack and pack two clips
When ya think about that you say "it'll be on"
Its a trip youre here today but the next day youre gone

One day youre here, baby
But then youre gone [repeat]

Bun B
This world we livin in man it aint nuthin but drama
Everyone wanna harm ya in New york niggas gettin shot fo bombers
Now they got yo life in the former they in like California
Niggas who roll that hydroponic-marijuana
Gangbangin got the ghetto hotter than a sauna
Back in Orange my nigga Pop died on the corner
Behind a funky-ass dice game
I saw once before he died wished it was twice mayn
I remember bein eight deep off in Chucky crib
Lettin us act bad not givin a fuck what we did
When we lost him I knew the world was comin to the end
And I had to quit lettin that devil push me to a sin
My brother been in the pen fo damn near ten
But now it looks like when he come out man I'm goin in
So shit I walk around wit my mind blown in my own fuckin zone
Cause one day you here but the next day you gone

One day you here baby
But then youre gone [repeat]

Pimp C
I'm up early cuz aint enough light in the daytime
Smoke two sweets get in these streets out the pop up line
Peanut holder my boulders smolder on the PA pipes
Ak loader as I get swallowed under city lights
Niggas be lookin shife so I look shife back
Cant show no weakness in these streets you'll get yo life jacked
Mayn its a trip where i stay especially for me
This bitches tryin to lock me up for the whole century
They gave my boy down in Florida Dante 19
I wish that we could smoke again and take a tight lean
My world a trip you can ask Bun B bitch I aint no liar
My man RoRo jus lost his baby in a house fire
And then when I got on my knees that night to pray
I asked God why he let these killas live and take my homeboy's son away
Man if you got kids show em you love em cuz God jus might call em home
Cuz one day you here but baby the next day you gone


. . .



[Verse One: Pimp C]

I'm still Pimp C bitch so what the fuck is up?
I'm puttin' powder on the streets cuz I got
Big fuckin' nut's comin' back from Louisiana
In a Fleetwood Lana
I deserve them nigga's shit to put they pea's on they banner
Got the pound four by four cuz you know I just
Pay to nigga bought thirty from me
So I fronted forty two, he gonna pop to seven hundred
Times sixty two, twenty four eight is what I do
So fuck what 'cha do
If I told ya cocaine number's you think I was lyin'
Young nigga's twenty two talkin' bout they retirin'
In the game ain't a thang comin' far then we been
Rick's home two apartment's where enter
Tight friends mo bounce to the ounce
Cuz the Wood the shit, I done got me
Fifty ounces out of birds ya bitch
Tightin' up no slack bitches checkin' my stock
Got some Burban City nigga's so I'm a go to my garage
Just got back from California kicked it with B-Legit
Put me down with purple chronic and that hurricane shit
At the studio with Tom, I wish I could stay
I got to holla at Master P, cuz we got money to make
We with playa'z from the South stack gee'z man
Like Ball I got to stack big cheeze man
Bitch say he wanna show ya
You got nine grand I ain't rappin' shit
Till my money in my hand
South Texas mutherfucka that's where I stay
Gettin' money from yo bitches every
Got damn day
Big paper I'm foldin'
Hoes is on my mutherfuckin' jock
For all this dick I be holdin'
I hate grown man show it
Especially if a fool take our style and
Act like my nigga's don't know it
I kick it with the trill nigga's so you best's
Not trip if ya keep on talkin' shit
My nigga empty the clip
Hoe azz nigga

[Chorus:]

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

[Verse Two: Bun-B]

Well this Bun-B bitch and I'm the king
I'm movin' chickens got 'em finger lickin'
Stickin' nigga's who be trippin'
You need a swift kickin' yo azz is right for the pickin'
Now down as my pocket's stickin'
I be thinkin' nigga's slippin' you sick
When I be clickin' now take a look at the
Bigger nigga Marl liquor swigger
Playa hata ditch digger figure
My hair trigger you bound one hot one in yo liver
You shiver shake and quiver
I'm free from nigga you wetter den a river
For what it's worth it's suburblous some nigga's doin' dirt
Fuck her first and take off her skirt
Make the pussy hurt Mister Master
Hit the Swisha faster then you keep a
Blister bastard fuck her sister faster
Hit the elbro for sale yo
Brother better have my mail hoe
Before I catch a murder case and go to jail hoe
Hell no, time to bail hit the trail so
We can sell mo fuckin' yell get the scale
No other bullet duck or get shoved
Inside this game they better buck us
Cuz the clucker's they love us
Make them class dick suckers
Check they jelly like smoker's
I hit like nun-chuckers
Cuz Short Texas bring the rukus
This for my muthfucker's
Cookin' cheese to crooked geez
Rockin' up quarter key's
Just to get the hook with ease
Wanna bee's get on yo knee's
Fill the squeeze from them HK one three's
>From here to over sea's
We do what we please
No trip cuz we flip
Light up a dip
I'm breakin' 'em off from they hip to yo lip
Go ask that boy Skip
That nigga Bun rip
With one clip, soon as the gun slip
Now I done ripped out my Barile
Flyin' through yo belly belly and
Some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly
Servin' 'em like a Deli jumped on my cellular telli
Hoe sell it like it's goin' out of style
You can't see me Marcus so have a
Motherfuckin' Sweet and smile

[Chorus]


. . .



(feat. Chad Butler, Kristi Floyd)

[Intro:]
You ain't never seen, how a pimp be oh so clean
Fly women and fancy thangs, fly bitches and pinky rangs

[Chorus:]
You ain't never seen, how a pimp be oh so clean
Fly women and fancy thangs, fly bitches and pinky rangs
You ain't never seeeeeeeeeeeen
A pimp that's rollin this clean, oh yeahhhhh

[Pimp C:]
You ain't never met a nigga like Pimp C hoe
'Fore you come into my room take off your shit at the do'
If you comin to my hotel then you came to fuck
And if you fuckin with a Pimp then bitch your game is up
If your bitch get mad when you play this talk
Put her ass out on the highway, make that bitch walk
I ain't make this shit, fuck this shit old
You need to stop treatin these bitches like ladies
and these nice ladies like hoes
Standin on the front row, man this hoe a trip
She done opened up her legs and let me scope the pussy lips
Later on tonight, I'ma get behind her
I hope this bitch don't act like Pimp C care for no vagina

[Chorus]

[Bun B:]
Well you can catch me shoppin, checkin out the hoes boppin
Choppin up game to keep 'em lap hoppin
Pop in to the {?} show-stoppin
Proppin up a wheel and maybe ass droppin
Breakin haters off can't be mistaken for fakin
Fools are the ones left shakin, flakin
Marijuana deals with Jamaicans
Bakin up the powder to a fat cake an'
Mashin from the scene almost crashin, flashin
Cop lights keep a player dashin
Cash-in, on the crack course, paper stashin
With a passion for high-priced fashion
My dang clothes and my eighty-fo's clanky
God thank ye, motherfuckers actin cranky
Stanky, attitudes be janky
I think he, gon' hafta feel the sting from the rang on my panky

[Intro + Chorus]

[Bun B:]
Think I ain't heavy strokin, you must be jokin
Tokin, on some shit I don't even be smokin
That coke and, marijuana got yo' ass loc'n
Croakin, sleepin motherfuckers 'til they woken
I'm still crunk at five in the mornin'
Why yo' ass yawnin? I'm flowin 'til the crack of dawn an'
Laughin as ya pawn ya posessions
Yes it's been worldwide tested
Showin off my diamond investments

[Pimp C:]
A bitch, ain't shit to a pimp
A twenty ounce steak and some fried side of shrimp
A 600 S's, now the 6 drop
Everything I ride original no kits on them chops
18 inch Lorenzos, Yokohama tires
When I ride by all them bitches get they pussy all on fire
Bitches say I highside, hoe it ain't no thang
Y'all just blinded by the diamonds the Pimp the pinky rang

[Intro + Chorus: x2 with ad lib talking over]

[Outro: UGK]
Whassup Rick, yeah, hold up hold up
What's up Greek, whassup
Goodie Mob, Organized Noise, Geto Boys knahmtalkinbout
OutKast, you know Atlanta in the house
Jackson in the house and Memphis in the house
New Orleans in the house, hold up
Man I'm comin down like that, comin down like that
Comin down like this, I'm comin down like this
Comin down like that, comin down like that, hold up, hold up
Huh, hollerin at the Boys off Botany (the Boys off Botany)
Dem boys off Scott, dem boys on the Scott
Hollerin at the boys, hold up man, hold up
Talkin 'bout the South, talkin 'bout Screw
Talkin 'bout the North, I'm talkin 'bout the North
Talkin 'bout the East, I'm talkin 'bout the West
Talkin 'bout the West... [fades out]


. . .



[CHORUS:]
I'm pushin' down the ave. no one lookin' good
I'm baggin' stones niggas diamonds up against that wood.
I'm pushin' down the ave. no one lookin' good
I'm baggin' stones niggas diamonds up against that wood.

I'm pimpin' down the ave. you know I'm lookin' tight
These jealous niggas looking at me and my car so shife.
Wanna take my life, and wanna jack, but I see all through that,
Never let these bitch niggas take what's mine nigga never do that
Who's says he's going through a thang when ya'll ain't never lied.
I gotta a baby but it's momma act like he ain't mine.
Wicked women using children to live on
When I hurt and try to hate cause she knows the thrill is gone
Say man I stop smokin' with haters back in 94
But niggas thinkin' that a sweeps gone get the through my door
And niggas talk alot of shit in a safe place,
I know cause he can't look me eye-to-eye when he in my face
Now nigga listen to my thesis, see just what I mean
Nigga I ride dirty everyday, but still I shine so clean
Glitter and gleam, and all what it look like
So I keep swangin' I hear clanging tryin' to live my life

[CHORUS x2]

I see these niggas and days go and come
And fo me just to wake, I'm know I'm pissed
I grab my cis and I split my sista with my bunk
Some of my sweets be tight And some of my sweets be fucked up
But all of my sweets gonna blow so killas smoke get sucked up
I looked up today and didn't fall prey to none of that pistol play
But who is to say tomorrow they won't be blastin' this-a-way
I'm puffin' spliffs of hay Still upset about the drama here
At this time of year I'm wipin' away my dead homey momma's tears... shit..
But naturally them fuckin' laws is always after me
So I have to be in that matter on that 5-0-3
I'm livin' dastardly
Must be all about survival G
These niggas passin' me streets keep on gettin' live with me.
They say there has to be another way but I ain't feelin that.
They try to steal a lad, and my wig they wanna peel it back.
But still the fact remains. It's all about the game swangin' bang
Peace to E-S-G and all the victims of the game

[CHORUS x3]

I'm pimpin' through the ave. tryin' to see some good
But everythang is still the same in my neighborhood
Niggas frown when you up and smile when you down
And when you change for the better shife fools stop comin' around
I see the jealousy and hate, the wicked ways
We all lost children, pray for papers, and smokin' our lives away
Got to the point where I could not decipher day from night
She say she love me but all we do now is fuckin' fight
My conscience fuck with me so much I can't eat or sleep
The other side is sellin' dope and out there runnin' the streets
And even though I'm gay to street fame comin' from this rap game
Lust for thankin' and compulsive drankin' is a normal thang
Some get a waste and misplace tryin' to win the race
Some try to hold on to there place by smokin' with lace
But see drugs and plastic thugs ain't gonna change the hood
I'm smokin' skunk and poppin' the truck to make me feel good.

[CHORUS x2]

So it's your life...


. . .


[Bun B:]

Damn, already 3 in the mornin'
It's going down, leanin', drink your drink
Candy sweets, third coast nigga, UGK 'bout to wreck shop

Man, I'm larger than life
These motherfuckers ask, "Is it the bark or the bite?"
It's both, chillin' on streets you scared to park on at night
Just forfeit just like I'm becoming part of the light
And you, you goin' to be the biggest mark at the fight
I never understood what made you think you was handlin'
You half-ass runnin' through my neighborhood vandlin'
Next time I'ma light your world up like a canon
Get some Italians to play your ass like a mandolin
These cocaine wars got my mind in a frenzy
The feds tried to confiscate my 'llac and my Benzy
Colombian assassins hunt a nigga like Lindsey
And one of my workers came up short with my ends see
Shit, runnin' the streets used to be complicated
But now it's all easy, drug is strong arm related
But never can a bomb be faded
Fool ring the alarm, pour the Don

[Chorus:]

I'm comin' down real shiny like candy paint
'Bout 3 in the morning, yawnin'
I wish I could come down but you know I can't
'Cause I'm leanin' off the dank and the good ole drink
I got 5 on the weed, 50 on the drink
Fool comin' down fuck what these hoes think

[N.O. Joe:]

3 in the morning, just turned over
Pimped into my clothes
Got to get around some hustlers movin' in the Chevy Nova
Done flagged me down for some more of that brown
To go with that green, now they sittin' on lean
Now the light is green, got to get the snaps
So I bails from the scene, the watch is still packed
With dealers and fiends freakin' for G's and greens
See it's the same everynight
Niggas creepin' down G way and keepin' they head tight
Watchin' for laws 'cause you know they wanna hate
Jealous 'cause a nigga gettin' ahead of this paper chase
Can't place my face in these streets
But some niggas gotta hustle just to eat
Niggas jackin' and packin', they playin' for keeps
No peace of mind, keepin' my heat behind
No seekers see a lie to be caught sleepin'
By another nigga out creepin'
While I'm chillin' gettin' sweeted

[Chorus]

[Pimp C:]

What you see is what the fuck you get
Young Pimp C baby comin' down real wet
I got a pump in the 'llac 'cause
These niggas tried to jack us
But we don't give a fuck, I got the AK in the back of us
Came out the night club, 3 o'clock struck
Tryin' to holler at my people she in Lexus, I'm in truck
We 'bout to eat breakfast, we in Houston, Texas
The city of the crack, and the 'llacs, and the Lexus
I'm hollarin' at the body Courtney came with the love
We comin' down baby blowin' smoke in his lungs
'Cause I'ma candy sweet dipper, a big 'caine pimper
I'm playin' with the guitar, I'm squezzin' on the nipples
Even though this hoe look good and the pussy was tight
After I hiy, jump in my shit, I'm scratching off for the night
Fuck that laying in the bed with the hoe 'til the morning
Bitch I'm getting out here yawnin', coming back to reformin'
3 in the morning
3 in the morning

[Chorus]

. . .

Touched

[Нет текста]

. . .



[Intro:]
Check it out, 1996
Bitches still suckin on dicks
Hoes just... trippin mayne
Choosin they men by what kinda cars they drive
What kinda keys you holdin

[Chorus:]
[B:] Now bitches stare a nigga down when he step to the bar
[C:] They ain't trippin on me, they wanna fuck my car
[B:] But bitch who the fuck you think you are, by far
[C:] They ain't trippin on me, they wanna fuck my car
[B:] Look a nigga up and down like he a superstar
[C:] But they ain't trippin on me, they wanna fuck my car
[B:] But bitch who the fuck you think you are, by far
[C:] They ain't trippin on me, they wanna fuck my car

[Bun B:]
Ay C keep yo' eyes open for the boppers, car hoppers
Daisy Dukes out on the block, showin cock, traffic stoppers
Lookin good spendin some nigga G's
Nails by Vietnamese, {?}, lookin like they worth G's
Dress above they knees, jellies and G-strings up the ass
Man I never let 'em pass
So tell me where can I find 'em
With they nigga or in that candy Cadillac right behind him

[Pimp C:]
Bitches tellin me see yo' dick grand
All she wanna do is ride Su-bur-ban
Put her ass on the leather, and rub the wood
See we got boppers in Texas oh man that pussy look good
So I let them hoes ride and I show them a grip
But she blinded by the candy she can't see I'm a pimp
When she told me I looked good I didn't feel no pride
All the bitch wanted to do is just fuck my ride

[Chorus]

[Bun B:]
Oh yeah these hoes think they cute in skin-tight catsuits
Assumin that they body's too boomin to dispute
But pussy is the root of all drama
An attribute put up in they head by they momma
Oh yeah I'ma tell it like it is, I sees how it goes down
Niggaz talkin 'bout, how they passin these hoes 'round
But y'all trickin, them hoes told me
Fools y'all ain't Goldy, ridin in a goodie but an oldie
Fifty dollars there, a hundred dollars here
You brought the bitch a drink and all her homegirls a beer
Your homeboys lookin for ya, but yo' ass gone
You left your niggaz at the club and took ALL them hoes home
And didn't even fuck, MAN WHAT THE FUCK?!
If you didn't want to fuck then get the fuck up out the truck!
You know what I mean? I ain't showin out Vogues
Just so these hoes can be seen, c'mon you wanna fuck or cut?

[Chorus: first 1/2]

[Pimp C:]
When you look at my chrome and you lick your lips
It's just like I'm rubbin my dick between your hips
And when you smile and shake your ass, my grill smile right back
Bitch I'm the real, that's why I ride Cadillac
And I'ma fuck you and fuck ALL yo' friends
Soon as Pimp C come through in that 600 Benz
With burgundy paint, butter and LG rims
Color TV, VCR playin X-rated films
of myself, runnin up in beauty queens
But let me tell y'all niggaz the difference between y'all and me
You see, man I can tell all that bitch wanted to do
is just ride for free and smoke for free
But bitch not me, you better ask them hoes if my name Pimp C
Unless your pussy makin ten thousand dollars a week
The only way I see you sittin in my passenger seat, you bitch!

[Chorus x2]


. . .

That's Why I Carry

[Нет текста]

. . .



[Chorus:]

Hi Life
We livin' that hi life
Hi Life (Hi Life...mmmmmmmmmm)
We livin' that hi life...mmmmmmmmmmm

[Pimp C:]

I'm tired livin' fucked up, tired of livin' bad
Tired of hearing grandma tellin' me
When you gonna go to church Chad
Now I'm tryin' to live up to the image
That she would want me to be
But I got one foot in the street
And every week I flip a Ki
I never wanted to be a G
But niggas depend on me
It ain't safe to hit I-10
So niggas fear with me
And all the niggas that I went to school wit
Got cool wit, went to fool wit
I dealt selling that white shit
Pushin' cocaine, niggas holding pistols
Dependant on the game
What ya want me to do, its like somebody cut my throat
Got $20,000, tryin' to turn it to a hundred
And ain't nobody got no dough
So niggas came to smoke, bad habits do exist
And if this bitch came thinking to ease my mind
By sucking my dick
Bitch make up for a minute cause that ship never lasts
In 1996 niggas is dyin' from layin' on that ass
First Magic Johnson got it, then Eazy-E died
And you wonder why yo' niggas out there smokin' fry
I wish that I could tell you I wore a rubber everytime
But if I told you that nigga you know that I be lyin'
And I've been fucking pussy since the tender age of nine
It's gettin' to be a full-time job just tryin' to stay alive
And Crackers tend to smirk, offended by the weed smoke comin' off my shirt
But still I puts in work and front for my folks
Cause where I come from nigga, family just ain't no joke
Now D be gettin' married, and Edgar on the boat
But what about Baby Doe, some say that nigga's selling dope
And you know that I ain't lyin', that just how family talk
But what you gonna do when the Devil poke you with his fork
And everybody sittin' in the pulpit ain't saved
Most preachers are false prophets
Fuckin' hoes and gettin' paid
I'm lookin' for the...

[Chorus]

[Bun B:]

You only got one life to live
That's all they give you to do it
You could bullshit your way through it
Or stay true, it can be complicated cause niggas
Be gettin' shot in the cross
People and names get lost
The people in the lane get tossed
The streets'll eat your ass alive
Take your positions with pistols, bare hands, and knives
And nobody's surprised if somebody
Don't survive the dusk to see dawn
It's treacherous how we was left to die
On the streets that we be on
Motherfuckers sleepin' on them corners that you pee on
Probably cause society felt they didn't belong
Now who in the fuck made it this way for us
Got all these little niggas slangin' that yay
Because it ain't like they make high levels gainable
And that punk piece of American pie just ain't obtainable
So how can I substain a full life before death
Man, I'm left out here to make it by my goddamn self
Now c'mon, who gives a damn when you can't afford the turkey or ham
Livin' off of Raemon Noodles, beef jerky, and Spam
Now that's sad, but that's a fact of life
All I can see in front of me is up for grabs
Come off that slab
Cause poverty will push a nigga over that brink
Over the edge especially if you don't know your ledge
So instead of being without, I'm hustling
Tryin' to get through these ungodly days
Thinkin' of ways to get the fuck outta this maze
A man will committ a crime 'cause a fuckin' crime pays
I'm going through a phase you don't grow out
Until there's a reason a mother fuckers gots to pour out
His 40 on the curb, disturbed and left with no doubt in his mind
But still sometimes he don't know why
He walkin' around just hopin'
He can get one more try to make it
It's bullshit he going through, but yo, he gots to take it
You can't fake it, to get that hi life

[Chorus: until the end]


. . .



[Intro: Pimp C]

Where the hoes, where the hoes
Lookin', lookin', tighten up, tryin' to tighten up
Where the hoes, where the hoes
Check it out

[Verse 1: Pimp C]

I'm coming down candy, I put in my work
Got a $10,000 link medalion hangin' on a $2000 shirt
The game's been good
And all the hoes wanna sit on leather and the wood
Bitches tryin' to price my diamonds
But that shit is just so common
'Cause they see a nigga shinin'
But I'm movin' too fast
96 karats if you think that you could manage
Got the drink and the salad
Now the bitch is on the ?
I'm comin' down Gulf way, I'm tryin' to see what's up
I see big ass and some titties
Now we flippin' in the 'Bourbon to the city
The attitude's shitty but I bought no plex
Ain't talkin' 'bout the Malcolm but I'm ridin' on the X
The highway was so wet, I'm slippin' out my lane
The bitch was on her knees, but now she's runnin' me a game
I bet you never seen a big truck like that
I bet you never got a dick sucked like that
The bitch didn't know that I was tapin' the whole scene
Now we watchin' that bitch suck me on a 5 piece screen
The glitter and the gleam, we saw them in the show
Chauffeurs and the sofas, hotel pictures and the hoes
I got the haters, and the jackers, and the million dollar crackers
Tryin' to close me down, but I got ghetto love
I'm Pimp C bitch, I'm comin' down richer than rich
So bitch you know you gotta gimme good stuff

[Chorus:]

Lookin' for that good stuff
Ba ba ba ba da da da
Tighten up on that backstroke
Ba ba ba ba da da da
Lookin' for that good stuff
Tighten up on that backstroke
Comin' down on fresh paint
Blowin' Swisher Sweet smoke

[Verse 2: Bun-B]

We flippin' worldwide, P.A.T. International jetsetters
Bigger than the Hollywood letters
But don't get us confused, you lose when you bet us
Breakin' off the jealous with pitch black Barettas
My fellas and tellers who holdin' plates against them Texas boys
Bringin' the noise to haters in 9-6 plex
Like you major boy you have done played yourself
Too $hort smoked you like a Newport, and you bought
A one-way ticket to something bigger than you
Over your head and got scared
Exactly what I figured you'd do
Now who you kiddin', I'm slangin', bangin', and skiddin'
Busta playa moves and if you done it and did it
As I sit in the lap of luxury
DEA is tryin' to stick bugs to me
Undercover motherfucker tried to sell drugs to me
What could be more throw
Mafioso puttin' bombs under my load
Never show no grief miss the signs in the climate
Now I'm comin' down shinin'
Pieces and chains full of diamonds
I'm winin' and dinin' and caligula
Pretty boys gettin' off the hook
Bitches sayin' but I'm diggin' ya
But I know that make ya mega crunk
And make ya make it man it make a niggas wanna pop trunk
Got skunk from the Rasta, eatin' steak and lobster
Like a mobster and gots to be lookin' for the good stuff

[Chorus]


. . .



[Pimp C:]
Ridin dirty
Straight up dedicated to the Cadillacs
Ridin dirty, know what I'm sayin
Comin down on the slab, boy
Ridin dirty, forreal tho, ridin dirty ...
Have you ever been rollin in a clean ass 'Llac
Blowin big out the window, everybody got a sack
Got my heat right between my seat, got a box of them thangs
In case these fools start playin with me
You'd be surprised how them boppers wink, girl I can't stop
Give my headlights a blink and roll them up out the top
And keep movin, and keep rollin
Fools that don't be holdin, I'm comin through and foldin
And I can't stand snitches, wanna kill alla y'all
Even though some bustas thought I'm still rollin like a ball
And having things my way, hittin that highway
Sellin that big yay, a plush-ass place to stay
Po-lice, they wanna run in
Talkin on cell phones got a lotta kids done in
I wanna live like Arnold, Willis and Mr. Drummond
And keep my paper sturdy, big birds and tight herbs
Fool, I'm ridin dirty, uh, whaaaat
Big birds and tight herbs, fool I'm ridin dirty
Ridin dirty, uh, whaaat
Fool, ridin dirty, uh... whaaaat?

[Bun B:]
Tell me can you feel it? Man, nothin can save ya
I believe it's that season for gettin yo papers
Or haven't you heard about them birds? We call it that cheese
In Texas we get it with ease, hit I-10 if you please
But these polices - they think they sharp as creases
For no reasons man, they straight up strippin cars to pieces
Out of suspicion, or if they thinkin you on a mission
Ain't no wishin or prayin, they sayin assume the position
Hands behind ya head, down on ya knees
You get the case and they get yo weight and yo G's
Come on! I use to ride them Port Arthur city streets
With a chick with pretty feets and a box of Philly Sweets
They tried to finish me but couldn't get it done
So somebody told the law Big Bun was the one ridin dirty
Man, somebody told the law Big Bun was the one ridin dirty

[Pimp C:]
Sup PA, uh, what, ridin dirty
Beamount, yeah, uh, man, ridin dirty
Uh, ridin dirty, uh, ridin dirty
Uh, chillin in New York, ridin dirty
Uh, big D-Town, know what I'm talmbout, ridin dirty
That big H-Town, know what I'm sayin (wussup Southside)
Ridin dirty, uh, uh, ridin dirty
Uh, southwest ridin dirty, wussup Lord J (know what I'm talmbout)
Uh, that northside ridin dirty
Yeah, that westside ridin dirty
Uh, that, that, that eastside ridin dirty
Uh, California ridin dirty, fools in Oakland ridin dirty
My fool Spice ridin dirty, I know that fool Brad ridin dirty
And Big Mike ridin dirty, and all my fools ridin dirty
Uh, uh, whaaat, Baby ridin dirty
And Big Bun ridin dirty, fool Leroy ridin dirty
And Big Mitch ridin dirty,
Uh, uh uh, all my fools in Louisiana ridin dirty
Mister Chris ridin dirty, all my fools in Atlanta ridin dirty
South Carolina, North Carolina, ridin dirty
Flippin, dippin (ridin dirty) know what I'm sayin
Up in Washington, ridin dirty
Miami, Florida - where they film the Vice
Know what I'm talmbout? Ridin dirty
Uh, ridin dirty... ridin dirty...


. . .

Outro

[Нет текста]

. . .


Смотри также:

комментарии публикуются при поддержке Disqus



© 2011 Music World. Все права сохранены.