Lirik Lagu Ride Or Die - Xzibit
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(feat. Tone)
[Chorus]We just ride and get high, 'til the sun cracks the skyKeep that heat by my side, that's how gangsters get byCause it's an eye for an eye, when I bust you that's flyMy gun never been shy, that's how gangsters get byIt's either ride or die...
[Verse 1: Xzibit]... we just boogy, advanceThe rubber band stack thick in my pantsReal gangsters make plots and plans and touch dirtOnly prayin for the day when they can wash they handsReal gangsters leave nothin to chance at first glanceIf it ain't a sho' thing then you bet' not swingReal gangsters keep that Cutlass clean, keep the monsters meanAnd when you dump it drop it right at the sceneReal gangsters got a gangsta leanYou might not talk red, black, or blue but everybody talk greenGlance to my left look over my right shoulderLivin life in my rearview, FUCK stayin soberForget back I sit back and wait for the click-clackReal gangsters want real spit so I spit thatReal gangsters don't even say itThey just hit the trunk cock it and spray itLight up your Christmas! Yeah!
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Xzibit]... and don't slip upIt's way too late when the bodybags zip upReal gangsters pray for they soul when they get upYou live by the gun but you'll die by that hit upWatch that rig up, find yo'self in a boxin a spot where the cops can't dig upReal gangsters ain't just thugs in bandanasSlugs and big cannons, drugs and big hammersReal gangsters open up ya minds and expand 'emWhy was Tupac really spittin at the cameras?Cause real gangsters get no peace, they want us six feet deepor locked down in the belly of the beastReal gangsters make bread, rise like yeastWon't hesitate to put hot chrome to ya teethSo fuck beef! Real gangsters load heatWhen ya see 'em in the street better call the police, c'mon
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Tone]... syndrome is a fearthat inner-city residents have of they own peersPeople in they own communityusin a case where two blacks got smoked by one in '93And ain't now nigga be the murder caseUsin and servin survival shit as a defense pleaIn Cali big knot (knot)The judicial system out here'll have you level fo' 'til you rotIt's because of the system we violence strickenForced to frequent the zone when the reefer's driftinAnd it's hella drift cause in Southeast DanglewoodDamn near, 30 years of Bloodin and CrippinAnd we inflicted with a disease mo' trip than an H-I-VCan't nuthin protect you from a hundred, drummer 2-2-3'sYou can call the policeWear a V-E-S-T but forget about safety
[Chorus]
[Chorus]We just ride and get high, 'til the sun cracks the skyKeep that heat by my side, that's how gangsters get byCause it's an eye for an eye, when I bust you that's flyMy gun never been shy, that's how gangsters get byIt's either ride or die...
[Verse 1: Xzibit]... we just boogy, advanceThe rubber band stack thick in my pantsReal gangsters make plots and plans and touch dirtOnly prayin for the day when they can wash they handsReal gangsters leave nothin to chance at first glanceIf it ain't a sho' thing then you bet' not swingReal gangsters keep that Cutlass clean, keep the monsters meanAnd when you dump it drop it right at the sceneReal gangsters got a gangsta leanYou might not talk red, black, or blue but everybody talk greenGlance to my left look over my right shoulderLivin life in my rearview, FUCK stayin soberForget back I sit back and wait for the click-clackReal gangsters want real spit so I spit thatReal gangsters don't even say itThey just hit the trunk cock it and spray itLight up your Christmas! Yeah!
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Xzibit]... and don't slip upIt's way too late when the bodybags zip upReal gangsters pray for they soul when they get upYou live by the gun but you'll die by that hit upWatch that rig up, find yo'self in a boxin a spot where the cops can't dig upReal gangsters ain't just thugs in bandanasSlugs and big cannons, drugs and big hammersReal gangsters open up ya minds and expand 'emWhy was Tupac really spittin at the cameras?Cause real gangsters get no peace, they want us six feet deepor locked down in the belly of the beastReal gangsters make bread, rise like yeastWon't hesitate to put hot chrome to ya teethSo fuck beef! Real gangsters load heatWhen ya see 'em in the street better call the police, c'mon
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Tone]... syndrome is a fearthat inner-city residents have of they own peersPeople in they own communityusin a case where two blacks got smoked by one in '93And ain't now nigga be the murder caseUsin and servin survival shit as a defense pleaIn Cali big knot (knot)The judicial system out here'll have you level fo' 'til you rotIt's because of the system we violence strickenForced to frequent the zone when the reefer's driftinAnd it's hella drift cause in Southeast DanglewoodDamn near, 30 years of Bloodin and CrippinAnd we inflicted with a disease mo' trip than an H-I-VCan't nuthin protect you from a hundred, drummer 2-2-3'sYou can call the policeWear a V-E-S-T but forget about safety
[Chorus]
