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Twisted Heat Lyrics

from Ryde Or Die: Vol.2

"Twisted Heat" is track #11 on the album Ryde Or Die: Vol.2. It was written by Kasseem Daoud Dean;mel Jason Smalls;carl Terrell Mitchell.
"Twisted Heat" is track #11 on the album Ryde Or Die: Vol.2. It was written by Kasseem Daoud Dean;mel Jason Smalls;carl Terrell Mitchell.

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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

Bounce that ass, load them cribs
Let me see the mobbin' niggaz that 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

Twista
(Drag-On)
Twista
(Drag-On)

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

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 upon 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

Twista
(Drag-On)
Twista
(Drag-On)

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 ignorant

Twista
(Drag-On)
Twista
(Drag-On)

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

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' in front of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
Now hit, we won't miss ya, Drag-On and Twista
(Puttin' it on 'em)

Songwriters
Kasseem Daoud Dean;Mel Jason Smalls;Carl Terrell Mitchell

Published by
DEAD GAME PUBLISHING;UNIVERSAL MUSIC CORPORATION;SWIZZ BEATZ

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