"Ride With Me" lyrics - E-40

E-40

"Ride With Me"

(E. Stevens Jr.)

[Intro: Too $hort + E-40]
What is it?
E-40 and Too $hort in this thang, breh
You better know it
Give 'em a dose of some of this real shit
That's all we spit is that real shit, pimp

[Verse 1: E-40]
Reporting live from the soil, where the pickle jars boil
Where you can get popped like a boil
And fried like vegetable oil
Where it's murkish and sheisty, you can't be taking it lightly
Get rid of one, it'll be three just like him
The coyotes is out, and they thirsty and starvin'
(What else?) Scamming and scheming, lurking and plotting
I got an old school Firebird and I spoil it rotten
The beat be throbbin', speakers shake like Parkinson's
I keep it lit like an arsonist, sativa, I'm sparkin' it
Smoking me reefer, Kel-Tec 9 millimeter
The heater ain't on and it's freezing cold
No Medicaid or nuttin', granny 80-years-old (Wow)
What's a youngster to do? What's a loved one to do?
Get out there and hustle, make it do what it do
Born in the struggle, where it's only a few
Brothers that make it out then come back and help you
(BIATCH!)

[Hook: E-40]
Ride with me
To the land where they push that coke
And substitute it with the powdered soap
Ride with me
To a place where it ain't no joke
Where they tryna get rich, fuck being broke
Ride with me
Where the sidewalks smell like pee
Where they do heron and fi-fi
Ride with me
Through the hood where they grow that tree
Show you some things you never see
Ride with me
Ride with me

[Verse 2: Too $hort]
I'm with them wild ass Oakland niggas
All game spitters and mostly hitters
'Cause in the Town we still gone
Strapped, riding through the kill zone
East Oakland, probably makes you nervous
But it makes me feel perfect
So don't trip, 'cause you good with us
Ride with me, I go to every hood, it's love
From N.O. to ATL, Oakland to Vallejo
And everywhere in between
Streets is mean, but they love me
Park the whip, jump out and it's lovely
They love me like I'm Big Fred Thompson
R.I.P., tell his mama and his cousin
I know the homie would jam these songs
Clownin', getting his dance on, he ain't gone

[E-40]
UH! Johnny law got uniform cameras, so they can cover their ass
To protect theyself in court in case they gotta blast
'Cause they pop at cops and drive real fast, high-speed and crash
Get out on feet, hop over the fence, out-run their ass
But it's never a happy ending, eventually you get caught
For assault, sentenced to death for shooting a car
In the hood, it's syrup; in the 'burbs, bath salt
Hurry up, no, hurr'up, is the way we talk
[Too $hort]
We beat around the push on the telephone
If you don't I'm hanging up 'cause you hella wrong
It's us against them, that's the way it's been
No compromise, we can't be friends
So fuck you if you don't ride with me
I represent Oakland's Eastside streets
You see us in action, damn, they hard
Real niggas from the funk to Sobrante Park

[Outro: E-40 + (Too $hort)]
Muhfucka can't be in my car if he on some sucka shit, mayne
(BITCH!)
Niggas be backdoorin' niggas and shit
Ol' shady ass, snake in the ground ass niggas
You understand me? Niggas like this, mayne
A lot of niggas, mayne, you gotta be aware of the hand that hides the snake
I tell these niggas, mayne, if you wanna come get laced, man
Come on over to Gamed Up University where we lace the unlaced, ya bitch
(BITCH! - Took him out the car; he ain't no rider) UH!