Twisted Heat - Featuring Twista And Drag-on Lyrics by Ruff Ryders

Twisted Heat - Featuring Twista And Drag-on Lyrics

    Swizz beatz:
    We know y'all out to drink 'til y'all throw up
    We know y'all sittin' on 20's
    We know y'all reppin' your hood
    But how many y'all kill!!!

    [twista]
    Bounce that ass, load them cribs,
    Let me see the mobbin' niggaz that, uhh, talk shit
    While these muthatfuckaz be scummy and'll go for the money,
    Ready to ride when they holdin' a lick
    Thugs with the chevy's, thugs with the trucks,
    The real gun runner never run when he bust
    Henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a 'dro blunt,
    Sippin' with a fifty sack under the nuts
    Hoes with ass and no gut
    Let me see you jiggle it from side to side
    Niggaz if it's static, then pass me the strap,
    Gonna ride 'til my ride
    All the hoes that'll freaky niggaz, with the 'fedi,
    Let's get buck up in the club
    And all my soldiers, fall out, gangstas, mob up
    All the homeys on the block,
    Anny up on the fin and let's go get us a sack
    Serve too, we got a custom 'lac, hustlin' pack,
    Til a nigga bust, they bustin' back
    Guys that'll roll them dice and win,
    Girls with 'fits that show the skin
    Real niggaz mind your best friend at the pen,
    Real hoes let your best friend know about men
    Cause i be squeezin' ass
    And'll make a full glass disappear like a genie
    Move to the lox and beanie,
    While them hoes backin' that thang up on my weenie
    It's like no nigga in the world could see me
    When i ruff ryde with drag-on
    Rollin' up big babies in a mercedes,
    If you want herb we got bombs

    Chorus: twista (drag-on) (2x)

    Gotta kick that shit for the fine bitches and all my nugz
    For the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
    What do a nigga say when he say drag-on and twista (wanna kill me)
    Gangsta (let's ride), hustla (feel me)

    [drag-on]
    By know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight,
    And this kid spit fire light
    And the bitch i don' fucked like last night,
    I don't give a fuck 'bout a 2 and a half mic
    Cause the only muthafuckin' magazine that i read,
    Is when i buy my gun from it
    How many bullets you could digest in that one stomach,
    I suggest y'all run from it
    And the click-click from the calico, i gotta go,
    Make it pimp with a lot of hoes
    I'm the same muthafucka that's countin' that dough,
    Cookin' that coke to a pot of gold
    Cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop,
    I don't care i gotta cap me a cop
    As long as i got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks
    Drag open up boots by watchin' co-op's in convo at condos
    Keep the heat up in jeeps, in case y'all creep up on me
    I run up on y'all in a cab with a meter on me
    And the only on leavin' is me
    And the only one bleedin' is you, tryin' to breeze with me
    All the roc is e-n-y-c-e, in the nyc with the white t
    All i really do is argue,
    Double f, r-y-d-e, d-r-a-g, to the dash o-n
    Catch me, smokin' potent, bet it leave y'all, niggaz soakin',
    With your insides open

    Chorus: twista (drag-on) (2x)

    Swizz beatz:
    Errrrrrr!!!!
    Hold the fuck up!
    Slow down!
    Drag, twista, listen up
    These muthafuckaz don't know what's real out here
    (they damn sure don't)
    This is volume 2 (volume 2)
    Nigga, so, get ignorent!

    Chorus: twista (drag-on)

    [twista]
    Whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical
    Smokin' on tropical, achievin' all missions impossible
    When i up the block at you, i'ma pop at you
    If your momma cry there's nothin' i could do
    Should not've fucked with mr. illogical
    When i'm in to clubbin', clubbin', shake it don't you break it
    You booty to shapey, can't take it, wanna see you naked
    I don' drunk a boo muthafucka, so you know i'm lit up
    Everybody get up, spin witha a twista, it's a stick up

    Drag-on (swizz beatz):
    This where the shit pick up, let me load this clip up,
    Lust pour me some liquor, flame-on and twista,
    Let's see if you murdered who'll miss ya
    I love the dirty south, that's why i gotta dirty mouth
    That'll burn you out
    Tell your bitch i got a dick that'll turn her out,
    Especially when i tell her turn around
    I don' hurt her now
    Shit'll come back, and i think it's time to get murdered now
    I'm tired of silly clowns, spittin' out weak shit, sound like my shit
    You gon' make me pull a all nighter
    Standin' infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
    Now hit, we won't miss ya, drag-on and twista
    (puttin' it on 'em!)

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