Canibus, The Product G&B, Wyclef Jean, Pras - Let's Ride lyrics
[Canibus, The Product G&B, Wyclef Jean, Pras - Let's Ride lyrics]
If you just listen to my lyrics every
Day for a couple of weeks
My techniques will eventually kill you
Just like red meat
The Bhagavad Gita beliefs I speak be so deep
Most critics get mad because
There's nothing to critique
Whenever I'm rapping or rhyming
With irrefutably remarkable timing
I'm like Charlie Chaplin pantomiming
If you John Blaze, or you James Flames
Or you Jack Cremation, I'm Germaine Propane
No pain, no gain in this rap game
For the fortune and fame in order to remain
Most real MC's learn to adapt to the change
Or get washed away like tears in the rain
In the rain y'all
Just ride, just ride, ah
Just ride, everybody, just ride
Just ride, just ride, ah
Just ride, everybody, just ride
When you in the streets and
You're driving in your V
If you can see what I see
You're prepared for the jackers
Old school, old school
Everybody got to pack a mac now
Yo, if you wanna know, how I kick a flow
When I rip a show, with my lyrical
I'm a let you know
It's difficult, cause I'm a part spiritual
Part para-physical miracle
And I'm a blackout in a minute too
Spitting like Bone Thugs like
Nigga, what? I'm finna get a
Gun and stick em up
Then crush a thug's bones with a chrome slug
The black Cyrano De Bergerac of rap
With the ghetto Anglo-Sax' poetic syntax
In fact
Nigga don't even give me dap when I see you
Just don't give me no ice
Grill eye contact either when you see me
Whiling like Beenie on the speakers
Sim Simma! Who got the fire for my reefa?
You came home from a bid
A nigga was in your crib
And the whole time you thought
Your girl was celibate
Old school, old school
You locked up and she need some dick
Just ride, ah just ride
Ah just ride, everybody, just ride
Just ride in the hood, just ride, all my, uh
Ah just ride
Yo, physically I move at a velocity
That'll break your stopwatch if
You clocking me
My concrete jungle is like Jumanji
Iller than what you seen in the cinema
A five-foot-eight nigga
With more horsepower than twelve cylinders
My brain consists of twin Pentium chips
Double the clock speeds of a 586
And nothin about my physical matrix is BASIC
I kick flavor beyond what your
Tongue is capable of tasting
You'll be so surprised you won't
Believe your own eyes
It's like a Jamaican seeing the
Snow for the first time
Rhymes of a sort, that distort space and time
It's like explaining color to a
Man that was born blind
Crimes on the street
Come from a lack of eating
It's not my cup of tea
But, I'll give them the best
Motherfucking best
And if you still out here
I kick yo' ass tomorrow
Old school, old school (c'mon)
And if you still out here
I kick yo' ass tomorrow
Old school, old school (c'mon y'all)
Fronting like you buying food but
You buying crack bottles
Ah just ride, ah just ride
Everybody in the East, just ride
Ah just ride, ah just ride
Everybody in the West, just ride
Ah to the South, down South
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ah just ride
Day for a couple of weeks
My techniques will eventually kill you
Just like red meat
The Bhagavad Gita beliefs I speak be so deep
Most critics get mad because
There's nothing to critique
Whenever I'm rapping or rhyming
With irrefutably remarkable timing
I'm like Charlie Chaplin pantomiming
If you John Blaze, or you James Flames
Or you Jack Cremation, I'm Germaine Propane
No pain, no gain in this rap game
For the fortune and fame in order to remain
Most real MC's learn to adapt to the change
Or get washed away like tears in the rain
In the rain y'all
Just ride, just ride, ah
Just ride, everybody, just ride
Just ride, just ride, ah
Just ride, everybody, just ride
When you in the streets and
You're driving in your V
If you can see what I see
You're prepared for the jackers
Old school, old school
Everybody got to pack a mac now
Yo, if you wanna know, how I kick a flow
When I rip a show, with my lyrical
I'm a let you know
It's difficult, cause I'm a part spiritual
Part para-physical miracle
And I'm a blackout in a minute too
Spitting like Bone Thugs like
Nigga, what? I'm finna get a
Gun and stick em up
Then crush a thug's bones with a chrome slug
The black Cyrano De Bergerac of rap
With the ghetto Anglo-Sax' poetic syntax
In fact
Nigga don't even give me dap when I see you
Just don't give me no ice
Grill eye contact either when you see me
Whiling like Beenie on the speakers
Sim Simma! Who got the fire for my reefa?
You came home from a bid
A nigga was in your crib
And the whole time you thought
Your girl was celibate
Old school, old school
You locked up and she need some dick
Just ride, ah just ride
Ah just ride, everybody, just ride
Just ride in the hood, just ride, all my, uh
Ah just ride
Yo, physically I move at a velocity
That'll break your stopwatch if
You clocking me
My concrete jungle is like Jumanji
Iller than what you seen in the cinema
A five-foot-eight nigga
With more horsepower than twelve cylinders
My brain consists of twin Pentium chips
Double the clock speeds of a 586
And nothin about my physical matrix is BASIC
I kick flavor beyond what your
Tongue is capable of tasting
You'll be so surprised you won't
Believe your own eyes
It's like a Jamaican seeing the
Snow for the first time
Rhymes of a sort, that distort space and time
It's like explaining color to a
Man that was born blind
Crimes on the street
Come from a lack of eating
It's not my cup of tea
But, I'll give them the best
Motherfucking best
And if you still out here
I kick yo' ass tomorrow
Old school, old school (c'mon)
And if you still out here
I kick yo' ass tomorrow
Old school, old school (c'mon y'all)
Fronting like you buying food but
You buying crack bottles
Ah just ride, ah just ride
Everybody in the East, just ride
Ah just ride, ah just ride
Everybody in the West, just ride
Ah to the South, down South
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ah just ride