[Intro: Styles P]
Hahahahaha
Ruff Ryder 3
Time for the younger generation to blow
You know I brought my n*gga with me..
D-Block
[Verse 1: Jae Hood]
Aiyyo, it's Jae Hood, b*tch, respect my bars
The doctors have to piece together your face like a collage
n*ggas always talk greasy till the steel come out
And slugs rip through they gums and their grill come out
Motherf*ck you and f*ck your mans
If I don't clap you in the dome
I'mma leave clips in your diaphragm
I'm the hood prophet, puff purple instead of chocolate
Stay from around chumps and cowards cause they gossip
And I'mma stay on the corner like stop signs
With a pack of them creamy colored rocks and the Glock 9
When you speaking of the hardest, n*gga
Bring Hood name up (Jae Hood)
D-Block b*tch -- we about to have the game chained up
My words too strong, bars too powerful
And your towel can't dry you when them dumdums shower you
Y'all mad cuz y'all garbage and your lyrics is boring
And your whip was made the same year that you was born in
[Verse 2: Shiz Lansky]
Listen man; don't worry bout how many gats this crook has.. (that's right)
Just know I stay strapped like book bags
b*tch is shook ass
You just getting off your porch
And me? I'm just getting off in court
I could make sure your coffin bought
Why would you mention a burner?
It's a difference between rappin and attempting a murder
Talking the sh*t you living and the sh*t you heard of
You said f*ck Larsiny?
What is you crazy, b*tch?
Before you walk the streets, here's a few safety tips
Watch who you speaking bout, and watch who you speakin to
The cats you speak about'a show you what the heat could do
A respirator is What you'll be breathing through
And you got beef with who that you need toast?
The closest you came to beef, was meatloaf
When we post, with bats and P-coats
Y'all n*ggas better be ghost
[Verse 3: Keema]
Yo, to f*ck with Keem, y'all b*tches better hope and dream
Every gun that I own got a scope and beam
When I a-pproach the scene, shake dice, rope ya team
Best b*tch on the East coast since Queen
Latifah, buy reefer, fly diva
Ride deeper, four-pound thump louder than five speakers
Spit fire, hot lava flow
Don't get twisted, not one of them Prada hoes
Catch me in Escada clothes, with a lot of dough
That's not mines -- it's his..
I need a lot more to live
You gotta give to Keem before your kids
How you think a b*tch like me afford to live motherf*cker?
[Interlude: Styles P]
Hahahahahaha
That's a bad b*tch.. Shiz you a bad ass n*gga
It's the younger generation..Killing y'all...
Lott... Get busy on these n*ggas
[Verse 4: Lotto]
Hey look, I'm trying to stack mad gravy
So I get birds from my crew, and make Erykah Badu my "Bag Lady"
You that crazy? Squeeze! I know you ain't spittin shells
Your hand shake so much, it shows up on the Richter scale
I made the huskiest n*ggas look like they had sickle cell..
I don't just sell bricks dog, I got a b*tch for sale
So let me find out there's a n*gga hatin' Lott
No coffin, he get buried in a refrigerator box
God damn, I'm a hot man
I'm tellin you straight up, I got my weight up
Jacob, call my wrists Roxanne
Cuz if I wore it in a dark room?
You and your man'a hate it, I'mma look animated like a cartoon (bling!)
Bottom line, I'm telling you that you ain't f*ckin wit me
Hard, no body guards; you want a shot? Come and get me
I'm not a sucker, nor any n*gga runnin wit me
And why y'all ballin on wheels, if they under fifty... n*gga?
[Verse 5: Rockstar]
Lockin blocks the motto
Got more slow than Dr. Zhivago
Same mind state that made Capone boss of Chicago
But I don't get my gangster from movies, I'm a Rockstar
5-star teles runnin gangstas on groupies
Come through and leave a boy sick
Cause my F-Type steers with a joystick
I'm the heart in my era
Listen, I lead a artistic life
Paint pictures with my actions, ain't no margin for error
My innate features, leave n*ggas dismayed speechless
And please don't mistake weakness for kindness
I f*ck with old timers
So don't make me forget that you real and catch Alzheimer's
Motherf*ckin hoes, never I'll spoil them
I'm known to break a b*tch for reckless eyeballin
The top, dog; n*gga, I'm the bare truth
You want to get math?
Well, n*gga, I'm the square root
The Rockstar
[Verse 6: Cassidy]
I got a mean stash, you seen Cass get his thug on
And strip my b*tch; we kiss, and get our hug on
She what I put drugs on to get my grub on
And dog, when you park your car? Put your Club on!
The next cat I put the snub on?
I'm a clap the gat till it get too hot, and that's wit gloves on!
Y'all love drawin, y'all should go to a art school
I get my club on with the glow-in-the-dark jewels
Trees on my shoes, Polo and the dark blues
And I spark tools that the po and the narcs use
f*ck, is y'all stupid or somethin?
What's the point in, pullin out your joint if you ain't shootin at nothin?
Dude, frontin get you banged in the face.. (sure do)
And if you have braces, then you know how the banger'a taste
I'm wit anything pertainin to cake
And I just copped the blue Lottman
With the rectangular face... Easy
[Interlude: Styles P]
Easy n*ggas.. matter of fact... f*ck that, go hard..
Cass', show these n*ggas how you built..
Grab your guns, bust off.. my n*gga
[Verse 7: Cassidy]
Yeah it's Cassidy b*tch, get the name clear
I'm what you lames fear, got the game scared (uh-huh)
I buy 'caine by the square, but sell it by the O
I run through snow like a reindeer
The coke heads nose red like Rudolph (true)
I grind on the strip so hard, I got blue balls
I'd rather knock a Q off, then get blew off (true)
That's how I stay on my toes like my shoes off
You dudes soft, really b*tches like RuPaul
When's it's war, I move out like U-Hauls
I'm a true boss..
I send 8 balls to the corner
My strip like a pool hall (ya heard dat)
And I ball like I been in the sport
My trigger finger itchin like it got genital warts
Don't play around wit him, boy (why's that?)
Cause Cass is a pain in the ass like hemorrhoids
Faggot!
[Outro: Styles P]
Yeah yeah... it don't stop
This is R3, young generation
Showin y'all c*cksuckers what it's about
When y'all get some young boys come talk to me
We could do it any time any place; you know our style
Get ready for R4, cuz we never stop, we still in the studio
We in the studio right now
Far as Holiday Styles goes, the Ghost, S.P., Paniro
Well, you know... I'll be out soon
A Gangster & A Gentleman, at a store near you
c*cksucker
If you find somebody who could do it better
Introduce me to him so I can shake his hand
Cuz you know, that's a gentleman thing to do
Then I'mma flip to the gangster and shoot him in the head
Cuz that's just my style
You know... my sh*t'a be the hardest sh*t on the planet
As a matter fact, followin this
So, I suggest y'all stay tuned to Ruff Ryders cuz we will not stop
There's a lot of c*cksuckers in this industry and game but..
There's a lot of c*cksuckers outside in the street, too
If you on the street... Don't Snitch