Artist: The Game Album: Let's Ride 12" Song: Let's Ride Typed by: dnainc@tmail.com [Hook] You gon' ride or die? (echo) [Verse 1] All my niggaz gon' bust their guns Real motherfuckers never trust niggaz, 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 cannon, you bust it or you die with your heat Me and my niggaz are going to survive in these streets For one reason, we ain't living to kill niggaz, just dying to sleep I'm in the hood and I don'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 five, get respect 'cause I will die So it's a bet that I'm gon' ride [Chrous] I'm ridin' dawg, you ridin' with me? Ride with me If I'm firin' dawg, you firin' with me? Fire with me If I'm dyin' dawg, you dyin' with me? Die with me Just know that when the beef comes, we're all busting our guns (What?) I'm ridin' dawg, you ridin' with me? Ride with me If I'm firin' dawg, you firin' with me? Fire with me If I'm dyin' dawg, you dyin' with me? Die with me Just know that when the beef comes, we're all busting our guns (What?) [Verse 2] We can beef, I don't give a fuck Any street, stoop or block Compton, New York City, or what? You ain't never been out the hood don't go too far 12 gauge shotty with a pump like Joe du Mask (sp?) Shells the size of Spree Wheel lugs go through cars Rip apart a new Bently nigga like Dre sent me The haze in me, make me want to kick back Your man work out at Bally's but the .38 to a six-pack And beef keep the ER full, 'till the shit packs No more rooms? Let him die in the streets I'm from th C-P-T where niggaz dying to eat Them niggaz with scars under their left eye and their cheek Park a 745 in your street Like motherfucker if you don't ride with me You can die with the enemy Or die like the Kennedys nigga A empty desert clip's out like a bottle of Hennessy nigga [Chorus] [Verse 3] I got niggaz that will beef for the game run up on your man Splatter his brain then bring you his chain So if you owe my hood money, you better pay up 'Cause I roll with killers that will put you in a hole like a lay-up They don't sleep on the block, they ain't trying to miss sales They trying to tip over fish scales? Be in the XXL, and it's only six street rappers if you want to be real That'd go for the whole industry you bitch ass niggaz Say my name in the verse if you ready to die I'll call up my Harlem niggaz on that I-95 Ten minutes later you're dead on the I-95 Aftermath motherfucker, we ain't playing this year 50, Buck, Dre, Joe, Cube, The Game and Em It's our house, so we in the front yard So fuck with the Doctor and get picked apart like junk yards [Chorus]