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WW III. (Feat. Yung Wun, Snoop Dogg & Scarface)

Ruff Ryders, Ruff Ryders

Ryde or Die, Volume 2(Tugboats, it's over)Ahh hahaha

It's the second time around motherfucker!

Volume 2, Ryde or Die, biatch!

Gangsta nigga and we gon' rock this motherfucker, you dig me?

We the square root of the motherfuckin streets!

Double R, you cocksuckin sons of bitches!

Yeah!State yo' name gangsta (Big Snoop Dogg)

Where you representin? (West coast)

You gon' hold it down? (Please believe it nigga)

Enough said then nigga (hold up, biatch)Mmm, let's make this official

Shine yo' boots and load yo' pistols

Pull out yo best credentials cause thislll

be the official for the fictitial

Doggy Dogg and Big Swizz'll, nigga blow the whistle

Smokin on some bomb-beeda secondhand smoke

will getcha, hitcha, and make you all get the picture

Dig this, when was the last time you seen me

posted up West coasted up and sippin on some Remi?

Believe me, it ain't easy been Deezy (nah it ain't)

wit these jealous rap niggaz and these punk ass breezies

Man, I couldn't remember what they told me

when I first came in the game but thangs done changed

Call it what you want to, keep the heat up on it

East, Long Beach, California, spinnin like a 'Tona

Bangin on the corner, hot like a sauna

so you best to back up off me or I kick this ? on yaState yo' name yungsta (Yung Wun!)

Where you representin? (ATL shawty!)

You gon' hold it down? (Damn right!)

Well nuff said then (Ease up, nigga)Shorty pop a lot, actin like you got a lot

wit all that fake ice on his watch, this nigga want to get got

Coming to my city wit all that hot shit and his fake ass click

I'ma put somethin in him and bust his wig, I'm on some thugged out shit

You better be strapped boy, how you love that boy, act boy

I'ma break yo back boy, wit a bat boy, where you at boy

Hold up I'm cold hearted, damn right, I get retarded

I'm a young'n and down here, bitch I'm the hardest

You can hoot, hide and talk that shit

I'ma stay low, keep it real and sho' to come up

But when I bite you gone feel that there, it's real down here

Watch your mouth boy, you might get killed down here

I'm a Ride or Die nigga, put somethin in your eye nigga

Get beside yourself it's bye bye nigga

When it come to glock cockin and drop poppin

I'm the first to hit the block and go to war wit the cops fuck niggaState yo' name gangsta (Scarface)

Where you representin? (Motherfuckin South)

You gon' hold it down? (You God damn right)

Enough said then niggaHeidi-hoe! Scarface and Don, pullin the strings to your alarm

Bringin terror wit this beretta, I clutch in my palm

I'm scarin motherfuckers straight wit mine

Guerilla tactics, guranteein my enemy die

It's worldwide army alert for all soldiers

Either you Ruff Ryde, Ryde Ruff, or roll over

It's a stick up, so down on yo knees, cause I'm sicker

Don't disrepect it, you don't disrespect me nigga

I'm the one these niggaz call on; when negotiations are halted,

and the time comes for the beatin of the bosses

Make 'em an offer that can't refuse

They don't comply, well now I'm bout to stank these fools

Fool, I guess these niggaz think they can't be moved

Realizie they don't scare niggaz like they thank they do

You fuck wit me, I gots to fuck wit you

World War 3 motherfucker, I thought you knewState yo' name gangsta (Jadakiss nigga)

Where you representin? (East coast dawg)

You gon' hold it down? (Why wouldn't I?)

Enough said then nigga (Let's go)If you fuckin wit the 'Kiss, you ain't gon' breathe

The only time I lick in the air is New Year's Eve

Sonny from "Bronx Tale," you can't leave

Get kissed on yo' cheek then you meant to die

Cause when the gun start poppin then my temperature rise

You know my style 20 niggaz wit 40 Cals

Nine years ago you was hollerin shorty wild

Now I'm in the rap game twistin these honies out

Never left the crack game still on a money route

I run through the industry looking for enemies

Y'all niggaz sound sick and Jada the remedy

Get shot in yo' eyes and mouth

Can't see can't talk when you fuckin wit the heart of New York

And that's fouler that swallowin pork

And to fuck wit the feds dog

you know I push the prowler to court

Toast on my lap, got the East Coast on my back, UHHow many times must I tell you motherfuckers

We ain't industry niggaz

We in the streets niggas! You motherfuckin right!

Ruff Ryders forever, yeah bitch, now what?Ride or die, you talk it, we live it (East COAST!)

So ride or die, you want it, we give it (West COAST!)

so ride or die, you start it, we end it (Dirty SOUTH!)

So ride or die, you talk it, we live it (Mid WEST!)

So ride or die, you want it, we give it (Ruff RYDERS!)

So ride or die, you start it, we end it (Biatch!)Yeah, Double are motherfuckers - Ruff Ryders!

Songwriters

KASSEEM DEAN, JAY JACKSON, CALVIN BROADUS, JAMES ANDERSON, BRAD JORDAN, JASON PHILLIPSPublished by

Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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