NAS - Come Take A Ride (Two Seater) lyrics

rate me

[Hook x2: Nas]

'Come Take a Ride' you can fit up in my two-seater

Nas a thug you can catch me in my wife beater

Blowin' my drugs you know how I like the cheeba-cheeba

And if you hatin' and I prolly don't like it either

[Nas:]

Fresh dressed like a million bucks

Threw on my black jeans and Timberland Chucks

I got some moneys in my pockets got some money to spend

Got some hoochies I'ma hook up wit quarter to ten

My daughter wit me and we came from the mall

Don't need no baby mama drama

Kissed her on the cheek and dropped her back off

I hit the car wash at half past four

Some kid was star struck

I pulled off my grass and let 'em puff sour

My deuce-deuce rims shinin' happy as they can be

I went to the famous Project that they call QB

I saw some brothers gamblin' on the curb

A shorty pulled a pistol took they paper, nigga that's my word

I turned the corner wit my burner and palm

Niggaz know my name and game I'm a murderous Don

Saw my peoples then extended my arm

Pulled on the sidewalk, no time to talk

If y'all comin' come on; come on!

[Hook x2: Nas]

[Nas:]

Talk like a champion, walk like a champion

Body like a God and I promise that Nas'll a hit you off

Flow like a gangsta, brum bum bum bum bum

Bustin' black dummies and dustin' all y'all niggaz off

I've been around a couple of times, know how things go

I dealt wit 'em all on different occasion

The same things'll come in different stages

So when them things rise up or pop up

I look right past as if its weightless

Meanin' it won't intervene the thought process

So I can levitate to more important topics

Laughin' the Face of Death, flash back of car crashes

20 L's Grey Goose vodka and tall glasses

Dippin' in the twilight

Wit gangsta smokin' weed in my ride light

The same stuff is still a bitch livin' like I'm rich

Bang broads call me Mr. International, ghetto stars come on

[Hook x2: Nas]

[Nas:]

Slow like I robbed Brinks truck, haters all fold

Cuz my .9 is aimed up, I left four seasons

My niggaz bleedin' cause of four reasons

Jealousy, hate, laziness and envy even

Up in the Benzie squeezin' a couple Henny wit my comrad

Conversatin' on what we believe in

Like honey in the way she's been cause he's spend

G's a week in the make freak knees bend

I told her to pimp hard, see the hoes we left in the room

They nymphomaniacs prolly lick homegirls womb

As respect just phone 'em and leave 'em & shit

They not your wife keep your cash nigga don't even trip

Pass the grass accordingly, you saw police

But when I puffed and coughed

Seconds later screamin' "Fuck the Lord"

Got CD's, TV's, guns tucked in the floor

Once again I hit the streets and y'all don't see no more

So uh...

[Hook x5: Nas]