Music Video

Upcoming Concerts for Urban Dance Squad

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Urban Dance Squad
Urban Dance Squad
Performer
René van Barneveld
René van Barneveld
Guitar
Silvano Matadin
Silvano Matadin
Background Vocals
Michel Schoots
Michel Schoots
Drums
Patrick Tilon
Patrick Tilon
Vocals
Arjen de Vreede
Arjen de Vreede
Scratches
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
René van Barneveld
René van Barneveld
Composer
Silvano Matadin
Silvano Matadin
Composer
Michel Schoots
Michel Schoots
Composer
Patrick Tilon
Patrick Tilon
Lyrics
Arjen de Vreede
Arjen de Vreede
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Urban Dance Squad
Urban Dance Squad
Producer
J.M.A.
J.M.A.
Producer
Michel Dierickx
Michel Dierickx
Engineer
Djoum
Djoum
Mixing Engineer
Bob Ludwig
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Yeah, ride out, they ain't got no money I'm losin' weight, uh, ride out Gather 'round, y'all, it's goin' down, y'all Block work, twenty-eight for the pound, y'all If he the king, I put a round in his crown, y'all He just talkin', but he pussy in the town, y'all I air 'em out, then put 'em in the ground, y'all Hit 'em in the church if he prayin' on my downfall It's either this or you wicked with a round ball It's a burial whenever we sound off Hands to the no-hander right after the round off Peanut butter guts, chocolate brown Porsche Word to Spanish, José, we was movin' the most yay Had my boys runnin' and gunnin', sound like 'Coach K' Listen, duke, you be shoot, but you know that it's both ways My gun splash brothers, I call 'em Curry and Klay In a hurry to get buried ever fuckin' with J Ah, Dave, come on, nigga, I see you ridin' the wave Brave like the crackers that helped hire the slaves Keep talkin', I kill you, then slide in your bae You got a homie up top, I have him die in a cage And you trigger-happy, you can't wait to fire the guage Go out on your shield, though you die in a blaze Gunfire, one liar, gon' put the truth in a maze I got the truck off the sour, got a coupe from the haze In the telly down south, I got me a few dames We ain't fuckin', but we stuffin' they pussy with cocaine Whipped out, fuck around and hop on the 2 train Robbed the first and last car to show you some true pain Wolf on the phone when I show you a few fangs It's a different kind of hot, my nigga, it's blue flames Dudes is startin' to get out of pocket; loose change Hard part: tryin' to stay still, move things Right before you about to murder someone, your mood change We came up like ninety bricks We had the city under siege since '96 Go online: you still won't find these kicks Like Frank White when he did the Chinese hit That's it, it's us, then everybody else after Our part of the good books a rough chapter Everything dead serious, enough laughter Fronto leaves, Raw papers and Dutch Masters, yeah You read more, you see more They tearin' shit up on the streets in B'more Some people don't know what it's like to be poor The hood is a one-way, ain't no detour You know the love course, the hate come free, y'all Those who protect and serve will knock your seed off The energy is negative, it's not to feed off Shit'll cool down when we knock the heat off Get it? R.I.P. Freddie Gray Rest in peace homie that they shot in the back in South Carolina Eric Garner, Mike Brown, Glennis, rest in peace, baby girl And all y'all rappers one
Writer(s): Martinus H Michel Schoots, Patrick Tilon, Rene H J Van Barneveld, Silvano C Matadin, Ernst A A Arjen De Vreede Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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