Ride Or Die


We just ride and get high,
Til the sun cracks the sky
Keep that heat by my side,
That's how gangsters get by
Cause it's an eye for an eye,
When I bust you that's fly
My gun never been shy,
That's how gangsters get by
It's either ride or die...

We just boogy, advance
The rubber band stack
Thick in my pants
Real gangsters make plots
And plans and touch dirt
Only prayin for the day
When they can wash they hands
Real gangsters leave nothin
To chance at first glance
If it ain't a sho' thing
Then you bet' not swing
Real gangsters keep that
Cutlass clean,
Keep the monsters mean
And when you dump it drop
It right at the scene
Real gangsters got a gangsta lean
You might not talk red, black,
Or blue but everybody talk green
Glance to my left look
Over my right shoulder
Livin life in my rearview,
FUCK stayin sober
Forget back I sit back and
Wait for the click-clack
Real gangsters want real
Spit so I spit that
Real gangsters don't even say it
They just hit the trunk
Cock it and spray it
Light up your Christmas! Yeah!


And don't slip up
It's way too late when
The bodybags zip up
Real gangsters pray for
They soul when they get up
You live by the gun but
You'll die by that hit up
Watch that rig up,
Find yo'self in a box
In a spot where
The cops can't dig up
Real gangsters ain't
Just thugs in bandanas
Slugs and big cannons,
Drugs and big hammers
Real gangsters open up
Ya minds and expand 'em
Why was Tupac really
Spittin at the cameras?
Cause real gangsters get no peace,
They want us six feet deep
Or locked down in
The belly of the beast
Real gangsters make bread,
Rise like yeast
Won't hesitate to put
Hot chrome to ya teeth
So fuck beef!
Real gangsters load heat
When ya see 'em in the street
Better call the police, c'mon...


Syndrome is a fear
That inner-city residents
Have of they own peers
People in they own community
Usin a case where two blacks
Got smoked by one in '93
And ain't now nigga
Be the murder case
Usin and servin survival
Shit as a defense plea
In Cali big knot (knot)
The judicial system out
Here'll have you level fo'
Til you rot it's because of
The system we violence stricken
Forced to frequent the zone
When the reefer's driftin
And it's hella drift cause
In Southeast Danglewood
Damn near, 30 years
Of Bloodin and Crippin
And we inflicted with a
Disease mo' trip than an H-I-V
Can't nuthin protect you
From a hundred, drummer 2-2-3's
You can call the police
Wear a V-E-S-T but forget about safety...