I'm A Ryder

[Prode'je] Eastside and Westside riders (Gangsters) Cartel gang, nigga (Fo' life) What set you from? "S.C.C." [VERSE 1: Prode'je] Gees tryin to move but some niggas wanna trip Slide through yo hood bustin hollow-point tips Eastside rider, locs without a doubt fo' the funk Like the House Of Pain the fools 'jump' Makin these fleas cease, niggas fleece for the piece Double up on that ass like five g's Ease down the Cartel road with my niggas in a 4 Lookin for the busters à la mode Nada, suckin for your fuckin chin-checkin Swervin through the Manchester intersection Next in line for the ass-whippin - on a dime The West coast stays on your mind - the line Is thin, I'm in for the win so you lose Original like Chuck T shoes Who wanna dis the rider Light a sucker up like the 4th And leave him burnt toast [Chorus] Busters don't know but I'm a Eastside rider, rider (And if I catch you trippin, yo ass is gone) And niggas don't know that I'm a Westside rider, rider (And if I catch you slippin, yo ass is gone) You get your ass bumped by the Eastside rider, rider (And if I catch you trippin, yo ass is gone) And get your ass fucked by the Westside rider, rider (And if I catch you slippin, that ass is gone) [VERSE 2: Havikk the Rhime Son] Skatin down the 110, it's hot as fuck Khakis on crease, pavements fucked up my Chucks Flossin on the chip Motorola, hit the off-ramp bangin Jesse Owens Park, neighborhood's out hangin Glock on my hip, nigga, Westside gees Easin through the breeze, spinnin on gold d's Cavi-ass gangsta, nickel-plate-packer Mark-ass-subtracter, anybody-blaster I'm bouts to put that ass in a lynch Marinate that ass on the curb like a bitch Rhime Son regulatin things like Hussein, I'ma getcha Yeah, and let these nine slugs get witcha Dippin on a off-ramp, Rhime Son ain't nothin nice A gangsta down to put that ass on some ice I'm posted with the info aimed at your temple It's simple for I to throw up Westside [Chorus] [VERSE 3: Young Prod] On a mission dippin, ratatat like that Desert Eagle eager to lay yo ass down flat For my scratch, knockin niggas out like I was Michael Mack-10 got niggas' brains blowin in the wind Holler at me rollin in a bucket lookin tacky On the d-l don't love em cause niggas been tryin to jack me Stackin ends, fetti, a nigga get ready to roll Park the bucket, fuck it, nigga get ready to stroll Walkin up the streets heated, money green gleam in my eye Wanted to low-ride so I tried To sell cavi but shit was too slow So now I'm lookin for that fo'-do' lo-lo Slow mo' West coast rider Eastsider I'ma put it inside ya when I find ya I'm behind ya and you're kinda scared So be prepared, or shake the spot if you're scared [Chorus] [cutting up of]