Lyrics to K.B. Ridin'
K.B. Ridin' Video:
Ghostface Killah, RZA & Method Man Word (These mothafuckin' niggaz, 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, niggaz be buggin' in here Nigga don't speak no fuckin' English, word?) You get me everything? (I got you a cheese joint) {Diamond buscuits, mothafucka!} Method Man, RZA & Prodical 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!) Method Man & Prodical Spontaneous combustion got niggaz 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 Chorus 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 RZA & Prodical {Baby cuz It's Not a Game} You see them mothafuckin' twenty-inch chromes spinnin'? {Rocked out, baby, ice hangin'} Ghostface Killah & Prodical 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 niggaz 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 Chorus Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby Come on, come on The finest, baby, the finest You see them Linx hangin'? ShaCronz 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 niggaz be fast to plea Raw cook up, Got the Hook-Up like Master P F.G., 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? [Chorus (2x) RZA & Prodical {Straight like that, baby, it's nuttin' less, K.B., baby Don't forget it, C.C.F.} You see the shits spinnin'? Come on, nigga! {Clamp on, baby} Come on! Yo, yo, tell them niggaz, son What? What? You see the shits spinnin'? {Yeah} Shit hangin', son, they hangin' {Better catch it} Come on! Come on! Prodical 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




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