Xzibit - Ride or Die Lyrics

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Album: Weapons Of Mass Destruction (2004)
Xzibit - Weapons Of Mass Destruction Album

Song Title:	Ride or Die
Genre:	Rap: Hip-Hop
Visits:	1054

Print Version

(feat. Tone)

[Chorus]

We just ride and get high, 'til the sun cracks the sky

Keep that heat by my side, that's how gangsters get by

Cause it's an eye for an eye, when I bust you that's fly

My gun never been shy, that's how gangsters get by

It's either ride or die...

[Verse 1: Xzibit]

... we just boogy, advance

The rubber band stack thick in my pants

Real gangsters make plots and plans and touch dirt

Only prayin for the day when they can wash they hands

Real gangsters leave nothin to chance at first glance

If it ain't a sho' thing then you bet' not swing

Real gangsters keep that Cutlass clean, keep the monsters mean

And when you dump it drop it right at the scene

Real gangsters got a gangsta lean

You might not talk red, black, or blue but everybody talk green

Glance to my left look over my right shoulder

Livin life in my rearview, FUCK stayin sober

Forget back I sit back and wait for the click-clack

Real gangsters want real spit so I spit that

Real gangsters don't even say it

They just hit the trunk cock it and spray it

Light up your Christmas! Yeah!

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Xzibit]

... and don't slip up

It's way too late when the bodybags zip up

Real gangsters pray for they soul when they get up

You live by the gun but you'll die by that hit up

Watch that rig up, find yo'self in a box

in a spot where the cops can't dig up

Real gangsters ain't just thugs in bandanas

Slugs and big cannons, drugs and big hammers

Real gangsters open up ya minds and expand 'em

Why was Tupac really spittin at the cameras?

Cause real gangsters get no peace, they want us six feet deep

or locked down in the belly of the beast

Real gangsters make bread, rise like yeast

Won't hesitate to put hot chrome to ya teeth

So fuck beef! Real gangsters load heat

When ya see 'em in the street better call the police, c'mon

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Tone]

... syndrome is a fear

that inner-city residents have of they own peers

People in they own community

usin a case where two blacks got smoked by one in '93

And ain't now nigga be the murder case

Usin and servin survival shit as a defense plea

In Cali big knot (knot)

The judicial system out here'll have you level fo' 'til you rot

It's because of the system we violence stricken

Forced to frequent the zone when the reefer's driftin

And it's hella drift cause in Southeast Danglewood

Damn near, 30 years of Bloodin and Crippin

And we inflicted with a disease mo' trip than an H-I-V

Can't nuthin protect you from a hundred, drummer 2-2-3's

You can call the police

Wear a V-E-S-T but forget about safety

[Chorus]

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