Chamillionaire – Ridin’ (Houston Remix)

[Intro: Chamillionaire]
The Sound of Revenge!
Bun B, Pimp C, and Chamillionaire (Ge-ge-geah!)
The Dirty South already know what it is
We out here tryna get it and the police tryna catch you ridin wit it
This the remix, baby

[Chorus: Chamillionaire]
This is the remix, so bang it
If you know the police tryna catch you ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
We got the whole South, just sangin
(Get Throwed) but don’t let them po-po’s find you dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty

[Bun B:]
I’m the big-ass, ballin-ass gangsta with his mind up on his cake (cake)
When I put my pistol or murder game down, it’s no mistake
I’m a pro, your fake-ass best ta settle down (settle down)
Cause when hot things rip through your vest to your chest
cauterizing your flesh, you gon’ wish you had put that metal down (metal down)
I get credit ’round here for the past work that I did (did)
What I’m finna do up in this game (game), what the future hold for the kid (kid)
Place your bid: big body slab, foreign cars, indo weed up inside the jars
Styrofoam cups with pro-meth poured inside so niggaz know how we are
We ghetto stars, super trill, send my lady, to the ‘Plex
So when start handin out ass-whoopin’s, homeboy you just don’t wanna be next
I flip the corna, flip the cut, hit back alleys and the parks
So they can recognize my genius from L.A. all the way to New York, so nigga don’t start!

[Chorus: Chamillionaire]
H-Town to PA, they hatin
The police be tryna catch us ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty

[Chamillionaire:]
For the hustlers who rollin that dough, Caddy El dog and blow the big dro
You ain’t gotta play Tic-Tac-Toe for the boys to show you them Xs’ and them Os’
Got (Revenge) the minute I hit “Go”, here I come so stay in your toes
Ain’t one rapper can mess with this flow, if he think “yes” then tell ’em it’s “no”
No counterfeit, no phony paper, so gangsta when it comes to holdin paper
I’ll motivate ya, got Tony paper (who?) – Montana and Tony Draper (okay)
Put it on ya head let the fo’ deflate ya, hate to know ya and would hate to show ya
that the (Arm & Hammer) ain’t baking soda, you ain’t takin over if you ain’t Jehovah
It’s the remix and I’m sho’ finna rip a, hole in the game for the drank and the sippers
T-Pain say he (N Luv Wit a Stripper), well I got boys who in love with a triple – beam
BLING~! Y’all boys know me (who’s that?) I’m the poster child of the dollar sign
If anybody got a problem I’m, a Texas rapper that ain’t hard to find
Get out the clip and it’s four to nine, for all you haters that can prime my sum
Ridin with it, all the time, ridin dirty like I couldn’t get my car to shine
It’s the chip (chip) mag-a-net, the kid’s a bit (bit) arrogant
Bump a kit (kit), draggin with, defend the fifth, kids stare at it
Trunk beat always on crack-crack, like my whip is gettin misparented
Our ticker’s gettin dismissed, rip like t-t-t-t-there’s hair in it

[Chorus: Chamillionaire]
We got the whole South, just sangin
(Get Throwed) but don’t let them po-po’s find you dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty

[Pimp C:]
You see me rollin, slidin, drippin period blood
Ain’t no doubt, in they mind, I either rap or I sell drugs (drugs)
Well nigga I do both, ain’t never been to the poll to vote
But I’m down with George Clampton because he gangsta and he got coke (coke)
Bun B is The Pope, my new name is Tony Snow
Big blow, got the forty-fo’ right here on the flo’
I keep it pimpalicious, I fuck with Vicious, every nigga ’round me ambitious
All these rap niggaz fictitious, got yo’ bitch tellin me my dick delicious
Catch me ridin in the Rover, bangin Screw then chop Hova
The first album, the real shit, hard-to-kill, drug-deal shit
I made up this trill shit, me and the young nigga name Bernard
Second nigga to rap country, talkin ’bout syrup and sellin hard
First nigga to use a hand clap as my snare drum on a bounce beat
All these shit these niggaz doin, I came up with it in ’93
And I originated this (Ridin’ Dirty), that’s why Koopa had to come fuck with me
Sweet Jones (JONES), Pimp C (C!), I just got off the phone with Master P!

[Chorus: Chamillionaire]
H-Town to PA, they hatin
The police be tryna catch us ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
We got the whole South, just sangin
(Get Throwed) but don’t let them po-po’s find you dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, tryna catch me ridin dirty
Tryna catch me ridin dirty, but tell ’em to try again

Updated: 30 December 2017 — 05:12

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *