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World War 3

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Letra
Ahhh HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

It's the second time around

motherfucker!

(YESS!)

Volume 2 Ryde or Die, BIATCH!

Gangsta n***a and we gon' rock

this motherfucker, you dig me?

(Fo' sho' baby!)

We the square

root of the motherfuckin streets!

(Fo' sho' baby!)

Double R, you

cocksuckin sons of bitches!

YEAH!

State yo' name gangsta

(Big Snoop Dogg.. bow wow!)

Where you representin?

(West coast)

You gon' hold it down?

(Please believe it nigga)

Enough said then n***a

(hold up.. BIATCH)

Mmm, let's make this official

Shine yo' boots and load yo' pistols

Pull out yo best

credentials cause this'll

Be the official for the fictitial

Doggy Dogg and Big Swizzle,

n***a 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 niggas

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 wanna,

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 straight up on ya

State yo' name yungsta

(BXDIOS NIGGA)

Where you representin?

(NEW YORK NIGGA!)

You gon' hold it down?

(DAMN RIGHT!)

Well nuff said then

(Ease up, nigga!)

(Man throw dem treys up!)

Shorty pop a lot, actin

like you got a lot

Wit all that fake ice on his

watch, this n***a wanna get got

Coming to my city wit all that

hot s**t and his fake ass click

I'mma put somethin in him and bust

his wig, I'm on some thugged out s**t

You better be strapped boy,

how you love that boy, act boy

I'mma 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 yung un and down

here, b***h I'm the hardest

You can hoot, hide and talk that s**t

I'mma 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 Ryde or Die nigga, put

somethin in your eye n***a

Get beside yourself it's bye bye n***a

When it come to Glock

cockin and drop poppin

I'm the first to hit the block and

go to war wit the cops f*ck n***a

State yo' name gangsta

(cONCEITED sOwAVY bABY)

Where you representin?

(Motherfuckin South)

You gon' hold it down?

(You God damn right)

Enough said then n***a

Heidi ho! Scarface the 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 soliders

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 n***a

I'm the one these niggas call

on; when negotiations are halted

And the time comes for

the beatin of the bosses

Make 'em an offer that they can't refuse

They don't comply, well now

I'm bout to stank these fools

Fool, I guess these niggas

think they can't be moved

Realizie they don't scare

niggas like they thank they do

You f*ck wit me, I gots to f*ck wit you

World War 3 motherfucker,

I thought you knew

State yo' name gangsta

(Jadakiss nigga)

Where you representin?

(East coast dawg)

You gon' hold it down?

(Why wouldn't I?)

Enough said then n***a

(Let's go)

(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 niggas 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 niggas 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 f*ck wit the feds dog

You know I push the prowler to court

Toast on my lap, got the

East Coast on my back, UH

World War 3 de Ruth B – Letras & Covers