"Not To Be Fucked With (Ryder Version)"
Where my grandmas at?
Let me find my ski mask.
Got my gat.
Can't let these niggas see my face so they get no finger prints.
Oh here we go.
We on another mission.
[Verse 1 ]
Catch me in the streets, wit out no heat you better blast
cuz if I catch you in traffic I'm dumpin' slugs at yo ass
there ain't no stoppin'
I'm poppin' til I release the 16
keep one in the chamber, pop in another clip and release
the murder scene is trauma cuz I done handled the drama
now I'm off to dump this strap off at my mama's
I get another one of them 24 years 2-1
it ain't no problem cuz the homies got a gang of guns
and I'm constantly puttin' it down for the side where it's at
it's the land of big ballers in stillar hats
we stay heated
so make like Michael Jackson mutha fucka juss beat it
repeat it once again to let you niggas know I mean it
to slap you across the head cuz you ain't leavin'
look what you did
now your whole family creepin'
I got the skills to peel
a gang of enemies to kill
another bad drug deal there be some shootin' at the hill
they tryin' to kill us
but this time, them niggas didn't get us
fuckin' wit them baby locs, we ride wit young hittas
niggas figure that they can catch a nigga up in traffic
but pull up on me
I'm peelin' niggas caps backwards
that nizine, that you was pullin' out yo waist line
you used to work it fine, but didn't make it this time
Not To Be Fucked Wit, fucked wit
dippin' in my bucket
servin' cocaine to them cluckers
and I, keeps my strap, keeps my strap
keeps my strap.
Lookin' out yo window all you gonna see is us young niggas ridin'
survivin' wit 3 strikes
livin' the life of some youngstas livin' plush
eighteens on my Benz
gold D's on my bucket
makin' these duckets to lease
hoes can the Datsun
I got 4 bad different bitches where I can get my nuts licked
at yours too
but the difference between me and you is she gonna rob yo bitch ass as
soon as she get through nigga
to bring yo cash to me
yo stash to me
it's all gonna be for me
that nigga wanted the hunney
bitch all I want is the money
and she brings it to me my nigga, juss like that
and after 2 or a few times I give a lil sumpthin' back
this game is to be sold
not to be told
fuckin' wit the G, I tear you a new asshole
so watch yo liver
a shit bag is what I deliver
fuckin' wit this baby locster and nigga I'm a hit her
I serve 'em up like a loc
and hope this 2-0
nigga you know, I'm finna rip ride the most
cuz Vine to Vine I blast through the Woods of Ingle
lay down all yo family, kinfolks, and people
from the Hoobangin' Young Swoop
yes, yes ya'll
saggin' down to my drawls
my set on the wall
I had to slow my roll to get in the rap business
but I'm ridin' on fools livin' wit this mill ticket
you shoulda stayed down
and you woulda got a mill ticket
(Swoop what's up wit that nigga Daz loc?)
I don't know?
To be exact
I didn't think Daz was fuckin' wit the wack
and he know it's like that on the Eastside where we bang at
so tell me, is D-A-Z a rida?
Hella nah, that nigga Daz ain't a rida (ah ha!)
I'm from Eastside Longbeach to the Westside of Inglewood
never, unless there's tradgedy, from bringin' terror
so once upon a time, in the early stages of my life
met a busta named Kurupt
at Lou Zinger High
put his ass in a dance from the way I do my thang
on the mic he displayed it
came from Philly to LA
I been all over
from Crenshaw to the 60's camp
on the 100 an nathin'
wit Big D only strapped
it's all about mashin' (mashin', mashin')
if these fools run up, we some blasters
sayin' I'm not to be fucked wit
hit the corner on yo ass in a bucket
that niggas un-fuck-witable
but they claim they gonna get me though
when I pull this trigger slow
as ya'll watch muder shows
starring this baby loc
walk up on you wit this uzi, I swear juss like a movie
only one of ya'll homies done did somethin' to me
when I'm ridin', seems like the only way to try
dumpin out the bullets like 10's far from the eye
put dirt on me, murder me
now it's time to meet your maker
NAS move to LA and watch these "Street Dreams" take ya
fuckin' wit me, rollin' up the bomb, bomb weed
dippin' in somethin classic from the early 60's
we ride this
take it for what it is, I'm Not To Be Fucked Wit.
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