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| Ruff Ryders > Vol. 3-Ryde Or Die Album > Gonna Be Sumthin Lyrics |
Album Name: Vol. 3-Ryde Or Die
Song Name: Gonna Be Sumthin
Mm
Ruff Ryders
Next genertaion
I didnt see the empire
If you want Jacksons with a system that'll wake up the dead
With a truck full of birds feedin them bread
And before y'all bet just noticed that (uh-huh)
I treat dice games like football;
I pop niggaz and don't give 'em a quarter back
And then I'm spendin that in the store where the linen at
Same night in the club where the Cris' and the women at
Y'know, twenty-three with a hell of a flow
Six with no steering wheel, I just tell it where to go, uh
"Stop, make a right at the bar" - to all the C.E.O.'s it's ten o'clock
Do you know where your artists are?
Dee, I'm in the club smellin like Cristal cologne
Dial Star-8-2 before you call my phone
A little boy in a grown man's world
But as a little boy I could fuck a grown man's girl
And if I bust in your mother then you become my enemy
Get it? .. Enemy? Uhh
[Chorus: Aja + Infrared]
Ladies is jumpin, niggaz is thumpin
Bottles is poppin, it's gon' be somethin
Cause I don't care if my ladies in here
And you know, I don't care if your niggaz in here, uhh
Ladies is jumpin, niggaz is thumpin
Bottles is poppin, it's gon' be somethin
It's gon' be somethin - cause I don't care if my ladies in here
Cause you know, I don't care if your niggaz in here, whooooo!
[Cross]
Let's get shit poppin
Ladies, call me Cross cause I hit the spottin
And I, stay fresh cause they take me shoppin
We can en-joy life (uh-huh) as the cash spends
Flash Bent's (uh-huh) fast Benz (whoooo!)
You and me Ma, your man's past-tense (let's go)
And I'ma wait to put the baby asleep
Cause you know, I'ma hit you while your baby asleep
Whooooo! To say this a creep, after I nuttin
Bitch, I'm a pimp, I ain't askin for nuttin
I mastered frontin, fuck cocky, I got olympic ice
Rock's the size of olympic lights, uhh
[Chorus]
[Infrared + Cross]
They call me dick 'em down, slick 'em, I'm quick to hit 'em
They call me dick 'em down lovely, it's nothin above me
You know, a house is not a house unless there's four drive-ways
While I be in the club pourin Cris' sideways
And I'm standin outside to wipe out your team
and come to your funeral and pour out casket cream
Yeaaaah - I said slow down honey
I'm bout to wrap you up in jewels like Egyptian mummies
Cause when I.N.C. die they puttin our face on money
Ain't that funny? Y'all haters move and get stoled on
You know we keep killers under the wing like roll-on
You ain't never seen nothin like this before
Y'all been gettin straight cook up nigga, we straight raw
And if you did, you lyin to yourself for these past days
We like Big, we get more butts than ashtrays nigga
Uhh..
[Chorus] - repeat 2X
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