Ruffest Ryders - Intellectual

[Intro: Sheek Louch]

The present!

Yo, yo, yo!

[Verse One: Sheek Louch]

Ayo if gon' sleep on something, might as well be a bed

And if you gon' crack a nigga, might as well be a head

Cause if you targeting the L.O.X., you might as as well target a box

That you gon' sleep in for years, all covered wit rocks

Cause I think not, I pop shots, I double what y'all got

Ya hotshots ain't got blocks, ?llabuta? muchacha

From the days in school, now a motherfucker rule

And I could drop my chain in coffee and keep shit cool

That's how ice be, I'm priceless, the iciest

And I dont gotta wear fatigues to blow out your chest

My bullets thump when I'm laced in some fly shit, punk

The baby nine be on the daily, ain't no poppin a trunk

But if I pop the trunk, its to hand you a rag

So you can wipe down the windows on the side of my Jag

Must I brag? My shit paid for, yours tagged

And every bitch you grabbed, Sheek bend em back

[Verse Two: Jadakiss]

Ayo I hope you ain't tongue-kissin your spouse

Cause I be makin love in her in the mouth

Type of cat buck at your house

Too slick, means she be suckin my dick

And before you know it, I'ma have her stuffin my bricks

Jada, if I kiss you now, you'll die later

I been nice since people was watchin movies on Beta

Ready to clap, everybody givin me that

Cause believe it or not, we be the ones settin the traps

You listen to y'all hits, then listen to our hits

Ain't nuttin y'all cowards could do but gossip

That's the reason now y'all players ain't got chips

Cause everytime I turn around y'all on the L.O.X. dick

Niggas thats narrow, I just smack em wit the barrel

Give it to em at the light, like Kane's cousin Abel

[Chorus: All (DMX)]

The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders!

[Verse Three: Styles P]

Catch you and your son, ya know when its done

Show me the money, I show you a gun, cocksucker

SP'll spin corner while you party with dun

I clap you I clap him, and thats rule number one

Suckin' my clip! And I don't give a hell what you spit

Who you are, where you from, and who the hell you can get

Cuz I sell records, plus I got a jail record

Ya niggas ain't sayin' shhhh until ya'll bare weapons

Im 3 years older than 20, holdin a Henney

Can rip a dolla bill but can't fold up a penny

Wanna murder Styles cocksucka load up the semi

Im at your baby mom house, on the steps climbed out

Like you played the don out, bout to rip your arms out

You done screwed up and did it, tryin to act like you with it

Came two in ur short sleeves, three in your fitted

And even when you dead, you can still flinch and get it

A ryda that'll smack ya, cock back and clap ya

Styles P ya favorite rapper's favorite rapper

[Verse Four: Eve]

Ain't no surprise killaz, only fuck wit recognized killaz

Babygirl want the world, gave ya pies killaz

No tops, take em in all shape and size niggas

No lie, prefer them ready do or die killaz

What? What you want? cutey starin at me like

"Damn, where you from?"

You be comin at me like "Can I get some?"

Lick your lips for this brown sugar

Suck mine like a thumb, if you want, til I uhhh...

[Chorus: All (DMX)]

The Ruff Ryders! (What?) The Ruff Ryders!

[Verse Five: Drag-On]

I be the D-R, A-G, dash O-N, slash often Comma

Burnin niggas often, they call me Drag-On, I'm hot scorchin

Keep the block roastin Light a dutch wit the flames comin, toastin

In my eyes you could see what summer's holdin

Realizin, every guy I'll fry or dead rowdy

I burn to a degree of 130, and my gun dirty

Cause it got one bury, so you better run, hurry Or catch one early

You wrong, tryin to touch me, what type of shit you on?

You better through your boots on and your unflammable suits on

Cause I'm comin through wit a Yukon Black tinted wit gats in it

Catch you while you smokin, send your casket

Throw the sack in it

But only half of it, cause y'all like half-ass dude

And we are one whole, and y'all niggas is one slash two

My gun blast you, tryna out the flames, what're you, firemen?

You'll catch a hell of a Backdraft cause my fire retirin, aight then

[Verse Six: DMX]

It's my, survival instinct that keeps my head above the water

Everyday I show another how a lover slaughter

Flood your daughter, full of more holes than spurges

Taxin businessmen for stocks over lunches

Wit these, I shoot the breeze, and extort

Enough keys from the Cuban, to build a fuckin fort

Caught up in somethin that I can't control

Tryna get a hold of a bankroll, let's role

Catch bodies like a cold, and I stay slick so face it

Make me chase it, I take your life and erase it

Wasted, in the fuckin streets cause it ain't worth shit

The undertaker take your ass under the earth quick

I Love money, but the scrambles hot

So i snatch up my man and the gamblin spot

Twenty grand is got, when niggas shot, one nigga less

What used to be his chest is now a mess under his fuckin vest