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Abc - Текст песни Eastside Ryders
[Tray Deee]
 Who run these streets? Love Thug Beats? 
 Ruff Spoken, Guns Speak, Blood Leak
 Lug heat for the threat not protection, 
 Not a question, Busta Tests I got rest 'em
 Catch 'Em Slippin, in the hood or the mall
 You ain't strapped, we can scrap, I'm good with the Doggs
 Fuck Talkin', Chuck Walkin' in my khakis
 Rag Swangin', Gang Bangin' nigga brang it at me
 Eastsider, Ruff Ryder loved by the masses
 We The Niggas holla out the set when we blastin'
 Insane 20 gang, anything killa, 
 Tracy Davis, Hair Raises, Goldie Loc The Stealer
 Gang Lock Down, We Cant Stop Now, 
 Get in the way of villan and Tray spray hot rounds
 Suckas chose thuggin' as a last resort, aint that a bitch?
 Here we do this shit for sport This CRIP
 [Tray Deee]
 Chorus: We ridaz, keep the heat beside us,
 Better Not try us, Touch ya like Midas
 Ruff Rydaz, Ride with Eastsidaz, 
 Bustaz bow down to crown, the Royal Highness
 Well we gonna take your raps, and gats, stacks and sacks
 Dippin with the Jags and 'Lacs
 Eastsidaz roll with Ruff Rydaz
 Try to step aside us or get right behind us
 [Styles]
 When I die, fuck a moment of silence, this is Holiday
 Gangsta rap gunnin' and havin' moments of violence
 Its an Eastsider, Ruff Ryder thing, Why you mad at me?
 Holdin on an AK, puffin' on some Cali weed
 Streets is my girl, asked her to marry meAbc - Eastside Ryders - http://ru.motolyrics.com/abc/eastside-ryders-lyrics.html
 Yellow and Purple Ears, tryin' to see Shaq's Salary
 D-Block Gang, Ruff Ryder Mafia, 
 Make Sure the bullets hit u cause i stand on top of ya
 Bounce like I'm Hydrolics (Hydrolics), 
 And i got niggaz in the hood that would shoot you over nine dollars
 Asked if I'm a gang member? Fuck nah, I'm a gang leader
 Boss to the boss and I bang heaters
 And you dont wanna see my arm jerk
 Cause the work i put on your face is bound to make your mom hurt
 And this one is for my Cali niggaz
 Eastsiders, Ruff Ryders and you can die in an ally niggaz
(Chorus)
 [Goldie Loc]
 I never write raps like a song can make me
 Trick off my money and let these bitches break me
 Cause I'm a cold piece of gold, dickies saggin in the dirt
 Sellin' my double knucks, to enhance my work
 Nigga Q keep it Pimpin, I'm 'a keep it Crippin' (Crippin')
 Me and Dip Dippin, Dogg tha Police Trippin'
 Im an Eastside Ryde or Die Nigga
 And I believe you fools are some quick to lie niggaz
 Sippin on Sans call me lil Bit
 A down to earth brother, Gang Bangin' and rappin'
 Fake Blow Joes not hoppin' Lo-Lo's
 Im tired of you bustaz and fake C-O's
 You can ask Deal Dogg,Motherfuckin' Scoop
 We Done rounded up the homies and the front line troops
 Look Cuz, This game dont give me my cheese, 
 Im 'a shit down your thorat, with tricks up my sleeve
(Chorus)










