Ride (Down South) lyrics
by N.O.R.E.
[Intro: MJG]
Let's get it hype, n*gga
Let's get it crump
Yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 1: Eightball]
Pass me then Swisher Streets, let's get it in crump
If a n*gga disrespect me I'mma prove my sh*t and dump
Blast rhymes like I pump, turn your belly to jelly
Veteran MC, I don't think you rookies is ready
Three hundred and fifty pounds of pressure to deal with
I run with suave, always packin' somethin' to kill with
Feel this b*tch, when I get rich I'mma still hustle
Go down in history, paper taller than Bill Russell
Kilo flows, I got 'em hid in the basement
Choppin boys up, on some puttin it in they face sh*t
Eightball, F-A-T-M-A-C-K, known for layin' it down
And doin' sh*t the playa way
Callabo's of the dough ain't no secret
Space-age pimpin' means I don't do sh*t free
Time waits for no one, it ain't gon' wait for me
Yours truely, signed Eightball and MJG
[Chorus: MJG]
All my hardcore n*ggas, what you want to do?
My real thug-ass n*ggas, what you want to do?
All my money making b*tches if you ride with me
I'm a pimp till I die and I'mma ride for you
[Post-Chorus: MJG]
Now where them real b*tches at?
Where them real b*tches at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh?
Now where my buck n*ggas at?
Where my buck n*ggas at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on
[Verse 2: Foxy Brown]
I ain't new to this
Damn nice b*tch thats true to this
Money ain't never been a thing to me
Always stack my dough, holla back (uh)
Ass fat, thighs thick, titties perfect
Inhale the cheese from here to Tel Aviv
Y'all know it, sh*t I don't bluff
And no dough? I don't f*ck 'em
f*ck I'mma fake for?
Make mine's, I'mma take yours
Cause I'm no n*gga like love before
Make b*tch scream like "Gimme some more"
If a n*gga broke, what'd you f*cked him for?
Waiste of time, it's like we playettes minds
Don't stop, get it get it
b*tches, take it from a real motherf*ckin' pro
Y'all get that dough, we don't trust these n*ggas
They gon' pimp if you let 'em
From NY to the dirty south
And them b*tches dime tight
I got my mind right
And my ice got the shine right
And if it don't blind b*tches
When them lights hit the wrist?
You won't be stickin' sh*t
You be lickin' this
[Chorus: MJG]
All my hardcore n*ggas, what you want to do?
My real thug-ass n*ggas, what you want to do?
All my money making b*tches if you ride with me
I'm a pimp till I die and I'mma ride for you
[Post-Chorus: MJG]
Now where them real b*tches at?
Where them real b*tches at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh?
Now where my buck n*ggas at?
Where my buck n*ggas at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on
[Verse 3: MJG]
I'm the pimp motherf*cker baby!
Ice cold, stories so high
I pimp the whole village twice
So tight fold crease right on the president's nose
Pimp clothes, drinkin straight Henny and buckstrum
Touch toed, hoes take a centerfold pose
Break a treat, make 'em pay to enter those
Pros, slam those
Game tied tight like bows, we never close
Three-sixty-five, twenty-four
Hand chose b*tches a la mode, gettin' sold
Plus a load of killer, as Chronic gettin' blowed
Keep it froze, tucked up in a Tupperware bowl
Stick of gold, somethin' from the school of the old
Forever flows, I take it down as deep as it can go
Burn rolls, braids tight, blazed afros
We're pushin' hoes
di*ks get erect like poles, pay the toll
MJG is in control
[Chorus: MJG]
All my hardcore n*ggas, what you want to do?
My real thug-ass n*ggas, what you want to do?
All my money making b*tches if you ride with me
I'm a pimp till I die and I'mma ride for you
[Post-Chorus: MJG]
Now where them real b*tches at?
Where them real b*tches at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh?
Now where my buck n*ggas at?
Where my buck n*ggas at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on
[Verse 4: Juvenile]
Peep dis, you them boys need to slow down
Up in the mornin' in court, it's 'bout to go down
There's no remorse now, better expose rounds
Them jackets be on the lose until the dope is found
Juvenile's my name, b*tch
I represent it to the end, the same sh*t
n*ggas don't be wearin suits on these blocks
All you is is your boys in Reeboks
A thin hat to the back with a strap too
Willin' to bust a n*gga ass if he had to
If you feel the same my n*gga, you's a hot boy
Blocka, blocka, blocka
Better get off the block boy
Call the cops boy, your mama and pops boy
Cash wasn't a million, never hit the spot boy
You want props ha, you sold to the cops ha
You in a cell block ha, cause you too hot ha
[Chorus: MJG]
All my hardcore n*ggas, what you want to do?
My real thug-ass n*ggas, what you want to do?
All my money making b*tches if you ride with me
I'm a pimp till I die and I'mma ride for you
[Post-Chorus: MJG]
Now where them real b*tches at?
Where them real b*tches at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh?
Now where my buck n*ggas at?
Where my buck n*ggas at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on
[Bridge: Too $hort]
Where the real ones at? Beyotch...
Oh, you know how we feel
About all you wannabe ass ghetto superstars
Wanna-be-like-me ass n*ggas
Tryin' to be like Foxy Brown b*tches
I give a f*ck about your intermureal status motherf*cker
You ain't nobody
We ben doin' this, been doin' this sh*t
We go way back with this baby
Talkin' about this real sh*t on the motherf*ckin' microphone
Pimps and hoes gettin' money
Motherf*ckin' clothes and sh*t ridin' vogues and sh*t
n*gga ridin' on twenty's and sh*t
n*gga what you got?
Brand new-assed n*gga
You don't know nothin' 'bout this game, come on!
[Chorus: MJG]
All my hardcore n*ggas, what you want to do?
My real thug-ass n*ggas, what you want to do?
All my money making b*tches if you ride with me
I'm a pimp till I die and I'mma ride for you
[Post-Chorus: MJG]
Now where them real b*tches at?
Where them real b*tches at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh?
Now where my buck n*ggas at?
Where my buck n*ggas at?
Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on