Revolutionary Ride Music

[Verse 1 – Your Old Droog] Have all the respect but I’m still making dodo These lames hating hard, it’s all greazy but when they see me, let’s take a photo Rappers don’t want to go toe to toe, they [?] Fuck a mic, see me in Kyoto on the [?] Born in China like Marbury, call me Daryl Lynch Strawberry Your moms can only tell you in so many ways be good Where you crazy hood, what you doing? Making moves with my ghetto squad Doing the old tech drills, swipe down a chick’s ass with a metro card Then ran a train, but fuck bitches it’s that green Like a plantain that we planted with tame How you doing? Can’t complain Your Droog going stomping on the campaign I don’t pussyfoot around, put it down With Miami’s own EFN Pop shit and don’t care who we offend [Hook][x2] This is what you call revolutionary ride music Vibe to it, there ain’t no telling who I influence (My lifestyle) ignorance and intelligence (Blowing clouds of loud, mixing up the elements) [Verse 2 – Royce Da 5’9”] Started out a featherweight, worked my way to heavyweight Started drinking every day, the lord took my legs away Told me I was speeding so I slowed down and I told him I don’t need them, Imma sober up and levitate Some call it a spiritual awakening But the feeling down my spine I got from not making It gave me a [?] chill from raising this Nobody wants to fold, regardless if you unfold You know it’s real when your own call and put you on hold But all praises due to the most high Hope both my daughters know before I die I thought they were beautiful I’m laughing all the way to the bank, see I get it Envision, everybody that paint just can’t be Banksy My spirit is the clearest it’s ever been, with no distractions Except maybe my bitch overreacting But based off of past shit that I put her through she halfway forgave me for I would say she acting how she supposed to be acting I’m just a real nigga straight from my mother’s stomach Ain’t enough cloth for all of us to be cut from it Mark my words, my words shall leave marks on these street corners And y’all are gonna pay me homage [Hook][x2] [Verse 3 – ?] When I’m on I sound off in this Prepare for war, everything’s fair game as I Lock on the target, pop it and aim Exotic weed, indulge your brain But those a whole nother strain Arabic ties to my government name and shit Head blow harder than a martyr strapped with a bomb to his body [?], quiet through my silence acknowledge the service providers EFN, from MIA to NY his reach extends I got that zen-like flow, as I dive into a meditative state like Zo Now I’m [?] in the zone Reciprocating love with crazy hugs so I’m all good Pop bottles of pain, twis them backwoods Then form a cypher and spark a bonfire On these NY streets of concrete and barbed wire This applied to the users, this is what you call revolutionary ride music [Hook][x2]