That's right ese, guess who's back,
|
Tryin ride on these fools, Mr.Criminal,
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Along with the homie along little cuete, that's right,
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
My definition of a rida,
|
Were the motherfuckas that squize the blast,
|
Quick to match,
|
No questions ask,
|
Get the cash and get it fast,
|
My definition of a rida,
|
In the middle of the frontline ready to battle,
|
Head up, with my chest out holding my ammo,
|
Put valas in your ass, leave you facin the gravel, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha
|
|
[Lil Cuete:]
|
That's the lil cuete coming fully automatic,
|
Let em have it, when I pull the trigger back,
|
Any of ya'll heard that I'm sick when I rap,
|
Plus I got the sack and the strap on my lap,
|
You don't wanna be in the way when I spit one crazy mothafucka from that norwalk click,
|
Light it up and take a hit,
|
Little cuete, criminal, home boy that's sick,
|
|
[Mr. Criminal:]
|
We startin a mix, startin a mix, little cuete and Mr.crime,
|
From the sick south east to the wicked west side,
|
Bout to rough out the top, with a strap on the side,
|
Then lay on the ground and I'm taking they life,
|
Quick to hit you up when we're eager to bust,
|
Grap the strap, cock it back, hold the trigga then duck,
|
We some g'z we some ridaz we ain't rollin with punks,
|
Until you give us a definition you ain't rollin with,
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Mr.Criminal:]
|
Ain't no way that these fools they can stop us I'm hustln, deadly collectin my cheese,
|
Fools, we're thinkn, we catchin em slippin, I'm commin and bustin unloadin my clip,
|
Fools, we talkn aloud, my homie wisom respect,
|
One weak diss to the homies got you stuck in the neck,
|
Got AK's, 22's, even the tech's,
|
Got the homie little cuete got em rollin with checks,
|
|
[Lil Cuete:]
|
Any where you want it, I can make you have a 357 automatic,
|
Let em have it, when I got it in my soul,
|
Pull the trigga bang, and let a missle go,
|
I hit with a pistol one shot in my zone,
|
Though ay ando, still equip my semi atomatic,
|
Takin levas up the planet,
|
Make em runnin for the mountains,
|
Lil cuete is like an addict,
|
When I grab I won't panic,
|
Plus I got your bitch on my cock when I plan it,
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Mr.Criminal:]
|
Got a lot of hatas wanna see me shot in the head,
|
Oppurtunities pass, they ain't poppin no lead,
|
Fools talk to the cops kinda seem to confess,
|
Wanna see me in cuffs, and then to droppin dead,
|
Los Angeles county's most wanted part two,
|
Cuete and you know who,
|
To the homies on the main lines,
|
Throwin up the gang signs,
|
Creased up, sportin that blue, foo
|
|
[Lil Cuete:]
|
So, if you wanna go to war I'm ready for that mission,
|
Killin competition,
|
Packin heavy ammunition,
|
I put em in a body bag and send em on his way,
|
I always have a bullet if you wanna come and play,
|
You never thought I'de be the one to have it on lock,
|
So, here I'm gonna tell you that I'm never gonna stop,
|
And I know I'm gonna kill em when the album drop,
|
I ain't even tryin and I made it to the top,
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
My Definition Of A Rider
|
| Lil Cuete |
