You know
Sometimes you have to... use a little composure
Be playa about the situation

But this is not the time, ^!$$%
This is not the time, ^!$$%
It's time to ride

It's time to ride
Yeah


[ VERSE 1: Eightball ]
Sometimes you have to keep it calm, play it low
Bite your bottom lip to keep from clickin on a hoe

In the streets, what the $#&@, don't nobody play
From Memphis to the Bay ^!$$%s dyin all day
Over lley', sugar-coated candy cut up into bricks

(*##$es that be thick be settin up them tricks
Hittin licks, rules don't apply to gettin rich
Start a business, sell a ki, pimp a (*##$

Make that switch, real ^!$$%s flip %#@!
( ? ) %#@! with a bad-ass yella (*##$
Eightball, translation three and a half

You're not affiliated, ^!$$%, if you have to ask
Rich kid, a Queens ^!$$%, a green ^!$$%
When I say green ^!$$% all about his cream ^!$$%

I suggest invest in a Tec and a vest
Cause me and all my ^!$$%s gon' ride


[ CHORUS: MJG ]
One time for my real ^!$$%s (Let's ride)
Two times for the game, it's all in yo brain, mane

If I had a buck for every time I $#&@ed up
I would be the big willie ^!$$% with my feet up
But I'm in the field killin for a meal

Around fake hoes, talkin about they keepin it real
Money, murder, all in my eyes
Real ^!$$%s ride and they don't ask why


[ VERSE 2: MJG ]
%#@!, I'm a real-ass ^!$$%, who I be? MJ

Livin to handle business every !@#$ day
Now who in the $#&@ be talkin %#@! behind our back?
Lookin to find 130 ways to get jacked

Tie you in a sack, see to pack you off to yonder fields
Yeah you brought some pain, I brought the rain, how this thunder feel?
I wonder will these fake-ass (*##$es become real? Hell nah

Don't forget about this pimpin, I tell y'all
%#@!, I smell y'all fake-ass busters before I see ya
And I can tell by the scent in the air, I don't wanna meet ya

And I don't care if it's the mother$#&@in holidays, I ain't gon greet ya
Just pose up and look at me like a big-old pimp, ask a feature
^!$$% I smash down and take care of killers who spit trash

Suave House, No Limit soldiers, we kick $$#
At the drop of thought, p-i-m-p
Type $$# ^!$$% for real, trick don't tempt me


[ CHORUS: MJG ]


[ VERSE 3: Eightball/MJG ]
[ 8B ]
Preacher man, could you pray for me cause I'm about to sin

My homicidal poetry killin again and again
T-Mix gave me the gun when he said he made the track
A mental picture formed when I fired up a batch

Of sticky green love, controllin what I'm speakin
Sprayin ^!$$%s, leavin ^!$$%s layin up leakin
For weeks and weepin from my grim reapin

Releasin, MJ, wake 'em up from sleepin
[ MJG ]
I'm creepin, I'm peepin in your window smokin regular

Now how you gonna leave us behind, we're ten steps ahead of the
Competition, we leave 'em wishin upon the moon
We're here with T-Mix creatin the boom that moves the room

It's that pimp %#@!, that hardcore %#@!, that %#@! you run from
See I ain't got time for that superstar %#@!, I know where I come from
Ghetto, hood-ass ^!$$%, hard time

If you ever wanna meet me in person, I ain't hard to find