Wu-Tang Killa Beez, Suga Bang Bang, Sha-Cronz - K.B. Ridin' lyrics

Word (These mothafuckin' niggas, man)
Yeah, I hear that, you got that shit, right?
(yeah, I got it) Lemme hear it
(I'ma two-way Sunn back right now
Next time she show up right
On time for this shit) word, no doubt
(Better stop smokin' on that shit)
Fuck that, hey don't do it with him
(Whatever) yo yeah, lemme get that
Mothafucka's sayin' on this, nigga
(yeah, niggas be buggin' in here
Nigga don't speak no fuckin' English, word?)
You get me everything?
(I got you a cheese joint)
Diamond buscuit's, mothafucka!

Now let's see, we don't get down like that
See, he holds his own, haha, he holds his own
Haha, he holds his own (Bank)
(John Blizzy) Straight like that
He holdin' twenty on this
(Ghost Deini) Uh huh! yeah!
(ShaCronz) The invincible, baby)
Bad boys (Suga Bang) It's like that!
(D-Digi)

Spontaneous combustion got niggas lustin'
Fuckin' with this head bustin' track spanker
Decaffinator, crab sinker, twenty-five
Tryin' to live to see my forty acher
Before I die
Immaculate conceptions like loaded weapons
Shootin' up ya rap session in mere seconds
(Bluh! Bluh) ya whole style is undressin'
Try to hide yaself behind the R&B section
And got spotted
Fuckin' with them fake artists
Who make garbage
Now ya like a human target with no direction
And no protection
Rap nigga assed out and no question
Dead and buried, we holdin' like the military
Fuck Dog Shit
Hide-out beats and hot cherries
On virgin mic's, style very cri Tical
By any means necessary, mad lyr-ical
The Ghostrider
Want vengeance on you style biters
Ya whole sect got you gassed
'til I sparked the lighter
And burnt that ass like
Dhalsim in Street Fighter
I play the shadows
Scopin' out you lime lighters and Desperados

Killa Beez is ridin' East to West, baby
See our twenties spinnin' on our trucks, baby
Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby
Come on, come on

Baby cuz It's Not a Game
You see them mothafuckin'
Twenty-inch chromes spinnin'?
Rocked out, baby, ice hangin'

Bailed out from drugs
Almost retired from bubblin'
Hammers was the guns under the rug
Lift off my publishin'
Jet to Miami, I chuggle-lug the beat
Fiends beepin' me, I erase and delete
(Come on) surrounded my palm trees
And sound-proof condos
Tryin' out Spanish foods
Roberto's bangin' bongos
Do whatever, crackin' down weather
It means nice walkin' down the strip
These fat niggas broke the ice
Drive it in a host, the trucks
The gate's wide open a square box fell out
I'm hopin' it be coke and i snatched it
Dipped into a parkin' lot and wrapped it
See diamonds, pearls, rubies, gems
Covered with acid heavens to mega-troid
Infants'll know I'm paranoid
What she goes through
I'm on a next flight to St croix
Sneaker boy and Genius, I heard he struck oil
Him and Masta Killa own Fox and mad loyal

Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby
Come on, come on

The finest, baby, the finest
(You see them Linx hangin'?)

Yo, yo you know I rarely fight
I keep heat plus I'm very nice
I run with two-eighties on me like Jerry Rice
I fuck with many birds, not the canary type
I've seen a lot of happy
Days and scary nights
My click hotter than fish grease
Kids be diss-free
Most of these labels can't handle this heat
I love new twat, scrap ho's on a few blocks
When my hate grows I let the tools pop
A lot of these rap niggas be fast to plea
Raw cook up, Got the Hook-Up like Master P
FG, we don't talk, nigga, fast to squeeze
Walk up and let a hundred shots crash ya V
The first to pull out
The first to body somethin'
I got all the heat all the
Shorties in ya lobby pumpin'
Them dudes you standin'
With probably frontin'
Killa Bee Gang got that shit
That keep ya hottie jumpin' what?

Straight like that, baby, it's
Nuttin' less, KB, baby
Don't forget it, CCF
You see the shit's spinnin'?
Come on, nigga! Clamp on, baby Come on!
Yo, yo, tell them niggas, son what? What?
You see the shit's spinnin'? yeah
Shit hangin', son
They hangin' Better catch it
Come on! Come on!

Straight gangsta
(Yo, you've just been experiencin'
Wu Tang Killa Beez - The Sting)
Explosive, baby, comin' at you
(Y'all mothafuckas know
The next chamber's the mothafuckin' weather)
Look out for the Stingers, baby