Ruff Ryders

Ruff Ryders - Down Bottom lyrics

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Ha  Ha  Ha
 Oh  Damn
 Now bop to this
 Oh Yeah
 Ya'll know what this is
 Flame on
 Juvenile
 Drag on
 Flame on
 And now Swizz  Swizz Beatz yeah

 Verse 1
 Me and my niggas done licked shots
 Even done hit cops
 Bet ya'll niggas can't wait till my shit drop
 Treat you like your moma given' lip to pop
 Nigga you don't want my paper drop
 Cause that means I'm empty
 And your full of it
 Check what the bullet did
 Missiles gonna hit you get you
 Rip through tissue
 Should have never rhymed this cause I miss you
 I make plus cash
 Ya'll little niggas can't fuck wit Drag
 Got the chain out
 So it's bust and grab
 Nigga fuck that
 You better bust back
 'fore ya nigga ask back where the vest at
 Rock like a girl but you can't trust cash
 Spit like a fire but you can't touch black
 All you can do is cuss back
 And read back how you bust gats
 Nigga we don't need that
 I don't care about your feed back
 Ya'll niggas don't feed Drag
 Tell a motherfucker pull out
 Bust a bullet out
 In ya safe house
 Nigga where the keys at
 Nigga where the stash at
 Nigga where the weed at
 Nigga pass that 'fore I pull my trigger
 Mater fact where the ass at
 Cause I got the Ruff Ryders
 And I aint talkin bout my niggas
 Nigga we can go hoe for hoe
 Toe to toe
 Blow for blow
 And when you fell your nose crack
 That mean I broke that
 I'm fittin to PO-PO wit a flame thrower like I told yo' befo' ya know
 You can't handle it
 You can put me on wax but my fire burn candles
 And who that nigga Ruff Rydin'
 Drag-on
 Ya'll niggas and south siders

 Chorus
 (Drag-on:)
 Do ya'll niggas bust ya'll guns
 (Voices:)
 Hell yeah we bust our guns
 (Drag-on:)
 Do you fuck them 'till they cum
 (Voices:)
 Damn right we make them cum
 (Drag-on:)
 It's for the north
 (Voices:)
 Head South, Head East, Head West
 (Drag-on:)
 Ruff Ryders gonna show ya'll niggas who rides the best

 (Repeat)

 Verse 2
 (Juvenile:)
 In the late night
 We be cockin high givin' you stage fright
 Yo' head might explode
 When I bust with the lead pipe
 And I say right
 Juvenile hey tight
 Stay hype
 Now page mike and make sure he got all the yeah aight
 I'm tired of niggas be thinkin that you usein' me
 Runnin with them petty ass niggas lookin' like fools to me
 I'm workin wit some change ha
 And aint afraid to put 50 up on ya brain ha
 You 'bout warin' over ya people I'm the same ha
 Look I'ma have some body sayin' thats the shame game
 But if them people come they aint gonna give no names ha
 Playin' with the number one son don't play no games ha
 Come outside don't see nothin' but camoflage and bricks
 Yo' get some boys straped with (ban)danas tryin knock off yo' shit
 Ya stankin' bitch
 I Ruff Ryde your ass then
 Cashin' for money
 Juve aint gettin nothin'
 Ha, Ha, Ha that shit is funny

 (Repat Chorus 2x)

 Verse 3
 (Drag-on:)
 When my niggas get knocked we gonna bail them out
 When it come to my gun my shells is out
 you better get the message cause I done mailed it out
 I'ma bang like a hammer and I'ma nail us out
 East west the right
 this for my niggas up north
 My guns made in China so you better dust off
 Cause when they getcha you gonna be ketchup
 I always got chedder
 I never ass bet ya'
 And I won't even sweat ya'
 We roll much larger and better
 My dough is never low
 But if Drag is down on his last
 I'ma reach in my sweater bet my baretta
 Make a nigga feel heat in cold weather
 Can't stand a nigga hype
 Throw me his bitch
 Bitch come to my shit
 You betta come get her
 Be like a dog with a bone I run with her
 Ya'll make me so tired
 Ya'll niggas still rappin' like ya'll don't know my flows fire
 Ya'll aint got ya'll boots
 Aint got ya'll suits probaly got a gun that aint never shoot
 When they come you better hope they don't name you
 Cause like two sticks rubbin' I'll flame you
 Don't try to be me cause I aint you
 'fore I have your spirits with the angels
 My shorty keep a gun on the ankles
 Wana fuck watch out she will bang you
 Cause I taught her well
 Ya'll players better haul to hell
 But you niggas couldn't borrow a belt
 Who evers wit you is gonna jail
 Is you niggas bustin' guns or you aint bustin' none ha
 You want to fuck'em till they cum ha
 Drag-on Juvenille double up what you want ha

 (Repeat chorus 4x
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Copyrights:

Author: Melvin Smalls, Terius Gray, Kaseem Dean

Composer: ?

Publisher: Ruff Ryders, Interscope Records

Details:

Released in: 1999

Language: English

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