Rider - Davinche, Keedo, Steelo

Click clack on 'em

Push a wig back on 'em

Anybody that’s ever let off a.45

Knows about the kick back on 'em (Buck I!)

I was in a gun range… (When?)

On Sunday

Everyone says

Nobody ain’t ever this accurate!

Marksman!

Don’t believe me?

Go and ask them

Hey, you cheeky little bastard

You better really mind who you’re bargin'

Yo blud

Oh you think you’re… hold up

Wait there

I zoom in like a bloodclart close up

Man better know when I come around I got a shank on me or I got something else

I’m like «say that again?

That’s not what you said, you said something else»

You ain’t nothing that, I ain’t ever come across

Lick him with the buckle of the belt!

Why should I be shook?

He ain’t done fuckin' with himself

I have, that’s why I don’t rate my man

Has he really got something in his side bag?

He just posing, side man

Just walked to my nigga Kyze

Said he don’t know this yout

Me neither

Looks like he forgotten who I am

Here’s what comes with the reminder

R6, two ryders, bomb blasting

You, target, head-top, casket

Okay, bastards, questions, no answers

Floor him, carpet, haunting, darkness

R6, two ryders, bomb blasting

You, target, head-top, casket

Okay, bastards, questions, no answers

Floor him, carpet, haunting, darkness

Just got the words from Ghetts

Said there’s a couple nerds on the set

I said let me turn on the TEC

Cause I’m from the era where you learn to respect

Nah I ain’t talkin' 'bout your olders

I’m talkin' 'bout the real deep rollers

I’m talkin' 'bout the shotgun loaders

Ryder’s a riddim held the ends on its shoulders

Cause while you was nice on the fence

I was right in the trench with a 9 or a 10

All this, at my own expense

Thinkin' that this don’t make sense

Look at all the dough in the ends

All these ballers around and they don’t buy skengs

Like dem man

And they don’t pay rent

That’s why I walk around with a face of intent

That’s why I had to flip out on 'em

Jump out the whip and pull the stick out on 'em

No talking, no lip out on them

I eat man’s melon, then spit the pip out on 'em

Till they say I ain’t normal again

Cause a couple O. G's couldn’t war me again

Look, my little old school friend

Suck your dad, I ain’t touring again

See if you call me that, I might fly one at you

You know it’s not love if I ain’t smiling at you

Stop friending man’s friends and trying (that move)

Don’t fault me for him I ain’t tryin' that yout

Fuck that yout I’ve had enough of him

Back out the ting, bullets smother him

A whole piece crew come and cover him

.38 spinning, lookin' like it’s buffering

R6, two ryders, bomb blasting

You, target, head-top, casket

Okay, bastards, questions, no answers

Floor him, carpet, haunting, darkness

R6, two ryders, bomb blasting

You, target, head-top, casket

Okay, bastards, questions, no answers

Floor him, carpet, haunting, darkness