Swizz Beatz:
We know y'all out to drink 'til y'all throw up
We know y'all sittin' on 20's
We know y'all reppin' your hood
But how many y'all KILL!!!
[Twista]
Bounce that ass, load them cribs,
let me see the mobbin' niggaz that, uhh, talk shit
While these muthatf*ckaz be scummy and'll go for the money,
ready to ride when they holdin' a lick
Thugs with the Chevy's, thugs with the trucks,
the real gun runner never run when he bust
Henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a 'dro blunt,
sippin' with a fifty sack under the nuts
Hoes with ass and no gut
let me see you jiggle it from SIDE TO SIDE
Niggaz if it's static, then pass me the strap,
gonna RIDE 'Til MY RIDE
All the hoes that'll freaky niggaz, with the 'fedi,
let's get buck up in the club
And all my soldiers, FALL OUT, gangstas, MOB UP
All the homeys on the block,
anny up on the fin and let's go get us a sack
Serve too, we got a custom 'Lac, hustlin' pack,
til a nigga bust, they bustin' back
Guys that'll roll them dice and win,
girls with 'fits that show the skin
Real niggaz mind your best friend at the pen,
real hoes let your best friend know about men
Cause I be squeezin' ass
and'll make a full glass disappear like a genie
Move to the LOX and Beanie,
while them hoes backin' that thang up on my weenie
It's like no nigga in the world could see me
when I Ruff Ryde with Drag-On
Rollin' up big babies in a Mercedes,
if you want herb we got bombs
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x)
Gotta kick that shit for the fine bitches and all my nugz
For the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
What do a nigga say when he say Drag-On and Twista (Wanna kill me)
Gangsta (Let's ride), hustla (Feel me)
[Drag-On]
By know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight,
and this kid spit fire light
And the bitch I don' f*cked like last night,
I don't give a f*ck 'bout a 2 and a half mic
Cause the only muthaf*ckin' magazine that I read,
is when I buy my gun from it
How many bullets you could digest in that one stomach,
I suggest y'all run from it
And the click-click from the calico, I gotta go,
make it pimp with a lot of hoes
I'm the same muthaf*cka that's countin' that dough,
cookin' that coke to a pot of gold
Cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop,
I don't care I gotta cap me a cop
As long as I got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks
Drag open up boots by watchin' co-op's in convo at condos
Keep the heat up in jeeps, in case y'all creep up on me
I run up on y'all in a cab with a meter on me
And the only on leavin' is me
And the only one bleedin' is you, tryin' to breeze with me
All the Roc is E-N-Y-C-E, in the NYC with the white T
All I really do is argue,
double F, R-Y-D-E, D-R-A-G, to the dash O-N
Catch me, smokin' potent, bet it leave y'all, niggaz soakin',
with your insides open
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x)
Swizz Beatz:
ERRRRRRR!!!!
Hold the f*ck up!
Slow down!
Drag, Twista, listen up
These muthaf*ckaz don't know what's real out here
(They damn sure don't)
This is volume 2 (volume 2)
Nigga, so, get ignorent!
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On)
[Twista]
Whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical
Smokin' on tropical, achievin' all missions impossible
When I up the block at you, I'ma pop at you
If your momma cry there's nothin' I could do
Should not've f*cked with Mr. Illogical
When I'm in to clubbin', clubbin', shake it don't you break it
You booty to shapey, can't take it, wanna see you naked
I don' drunk a boo muthaf*cka, so you know I'm lit up
Everybody get up, spin witha a Twista, it's a stick up
Drag-On (Swizz Beatz):
This where the shit pick up, let me load this clip up,
lust pour me some liquor, Flame-On and Twista,
let's see if you murdered who'll miss ya
I love the dirty south, that's why I gotta dirty mouth
that'll burn you out
Tell your bitch I got a dick that'll turn her out,
especially when I tell her turn around
I don' hurt her now
Shit'll come back, and I think it's time to get murdered now
I'm tired of silly clowns, spittin' out weak shit, sound like my shit
You gon' make me pull a all nighter
Standin' infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
Now hit, we won't miss ya, Drag-On and Twista
(Puttin' it on 'em
n Twisted Heat Video (MV)
Twista And Drag - n Twisted Heat Lyrics
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Swizz Beatz:
We know y'all out to drink 'til y'all throw up
We know y'all sittin' on 20's
We know y'all reppin' your hood
But how many y'all KILL!!!
[Twista]
Bounce that ass, load them cribs,
let me see the mobbin' niggaz that, uhh, talk shit
While these muthatf*ckaz be scummy and'll go for the money,
ready to ride when they holdin' a lick
Thugs with the Chevy's, thugs with the trucks,
the real gun runner never run when he bust
Henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a 'dro blunt,
sippin' with a fifty sack under the nuts
Hoes with ass and no gut
let me see you jiggle it from SIDE TO SIDE
Niggaz if it's static, then pass me the strap,
gonna RIDE 'Til MY RIDE
All the hoes that'll freaky niggaz, with the 'fedi,
let's get buck up in the club
And all my soldiers, FALL OUT, gangstas, MOB UP
All the homeys on the block,
anny up on the fin and let's go get us a sack
Serve too, we got a custom 'Lac, hustlin' pack,
til a nigga bust, they bustin' back
Guys that'll roll them dice and win,
girls with 'fits that show the skin
Real niggaz mind your best friend at the pen,
real hoes let your best friend know about men
Cause I be squeezin' ass
and'll make a full glass disappear like a genie
Move to the LOX and Beanie,
while them hoes backin' that thang up on my weenie
It's like no nigga in the world could see me
when I Ruff Ryde with Drag-On
Rollin' up big babies in a Mercedes,
if you want herb we got bombs
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x)
Gotta kick that shit for the fine bitches and all my nugz
For the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
What do a nigga say when he say Drag-On and Twista (Wanna kill me)
Gangsta (Let's ride), hustla (Feel me)
[Drag-On]
By know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight,
and this kid spit fire light
And the bitch I don' f*cked like last night,
I don't give a f*ck 'bout a 2 and a half mic
Cause the only muthaf*ckin' magazine that I read,
is when I buy my gun from it
How many bullets you could digest in that one stomach,
I suggest y'all run from it
And the click-click from the calico, I gotta go,
make it pimp with a lot of hoes
I'm the same muthaf*cka that's countin' that dough,
cookin' that coke to a pot of gold
Cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop,
I don't care I gotta cap me a cop
As long as I got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks
Drag open up boots by watchin' co-op's in convo at condos
Keep the heat up in jeeps, in case y'all creep up on me
I run up on y'all in a cab with a meter on me
And the only on leavin' is me
And the only one bleedin' is you, tryin' to breeze with me
All the Roc is E-N-Y-C-E, in the NYC with the white T
All I really do is argue,
double F, R-Y-D-E, D-R-A-G, to the dash O-N
Catch me, smokin' potent, bet it leave y'all, niggaz soakin',
with your insides open
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x)
Swizz Beatz:
ERRRRRRR!!!!
Hold the f*ck up!
Slow down!
Drag, Twista, listen up
These muthaf*ckaz don't know what's real out here
(They damn sure don't)
This is volume 2 (volume 2)
Nigga, so, get ignorent!
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On)
[Twista]
Whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical
Smokin' on tropical, achievin' all missions impossible
When I up the block at you, I'ma pop at you
If your momma cry there's nothin' I could do
Should not've f*cked with Mr. Illogical
When I'm in to clubbin', clubbin', shake it don't you break it
You booty to shapey, can't take it, wanna see you naked
I don' drunk a boo muthaf*cka, so you know I'm lit up
Everybody get up, spin witha a Twista, it's a stick up
Drag-On (Swizz Beatz):
This where the shit pick up, let me load this clip up,
lust pour me some liquor, Flame-On and Twista,
let's see if you murdered who'll miss ya
I love the dirty south, that's why I gotta dirty mouth
that'll burn you out
Tell your bitch I got a dick that'll turn her out,
especially when I tell her turn around
I don' hurt her now
Shit'll come back, and I think it's time to get murdered now
I'm tired of silly clowns, spittin' out weak shit, sound like my shit
You gon' make me pull a all nighter
Standin' infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
Now hit, we won't miss ya, Drag-On and Twista
(Puttin' it on 'em
We know y'all out to drink 'til y'all throw up
We know y'all sittin' on 20's
We know y'all reppin' your hood
But how many y'all KILL!!!
[Twista]
Bounce that ass, load them cribs,
let me see the mobbin' niggaz that, uhh, talk shit
While these muthatf*ckaz be scummy and'll go for the money,
ready to ride when they holdin' a lick
Thugs with the Chevy's, thugs with the trucks,
the real gun runner never run when he bust
Henny and he mobs in the front, smoke a 'dro blunt,
sippin' with a fifty sack under the nuts
Hoes with ass and no gut
let me see you jiggle it from SIDE TO SIDE
Niggaz if it's static, then pass me the strap,
gonna RIDE 'Til MY RIDE
All the hoes that'll freaky niggaz, with the 'fedi,
let's get buck up in the club
And all my soldiers, FALL OUT, gangstas, MOB UP
All the homeys on the block,
anny up on the fin and let's go get us a sack
Serve too, we got a custom 'Lac, hustlin' pack,
til a nigga bust, they bustin' back
Guys that'll roll them dice and win,
girls with 'fits that show the skin
Real niggaz mind your best friend at the pen,
real hoes let your best friend know about men
Cause I be squeezin' ass
and'll make a full glass disappear like a genie
Move to the LOX and Beanie,
while them hoes backin' that thang up on my weenie
It's like no nigga in the world could see me
when I Ruff Ryde with Drag-On
Rollin' up big babies in a Mercedes,
if you want herb we got bombs
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x)
Gotta kick that shit for the fine bitches and all my nugz
For the ones who smoke pot, do stick ups, and ball in our hood
What do a nigga say when he say Drag-On and Twista (Wanna kill me)
Gangsta (Let's ride), hustla (Feel me)
[Drag-On]
By know everybody should know, that the kid spit tight,
and this kid spit fire light
And the bitch I don' f*cked like last night,
I don't give a f*ck 'bout a 2 and a half mic
Cause the only muthaf*ckin' magazine that I read,
is when I buy my gun from it
How many bullets you could digest in that one stomach,
I suggest y'all run from it
And the click-click from the calico, I gotta go,
make it pimp with a lot of hoes
I'm the same muthaf*cka that's countin' that dough,
cookin' that coke to a pot of gold
Cause my rainbow, is every color top that crackhead cop,
I don't care I gotta cap me a cop
As long as I got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough glocks
Drag open up boots by watchin' co-op's in convo at condos
Keep the heat up in jeeps, in case y'all creep up on me
I run up on y'all in a cab with a meter on me
And the only on leavin' is me
And the only one bleedin' is you, tryin' to breeze with me
All the Roc is E-N-Y-C-E, in the NYC with the white T
All I really do is argue,
double F, R-Y-D-E, D-R-A-G, to the dash O-N
Catch me, smokin' potent, bet it leave y'all, niggaz soakin',
with your insides open
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On) (2x)
Swizz Beatz:
ERRRRRRR!!!!
Hold the f*ck up!
Slow down!
Drag, Twista, listen up
These muthaf*ckaz don't know what's real out here
(They damn sure don't)
This is volume 2 (volume 2)
Nigga, so, get ignorent!
Chorus: Twista (Drag-On)
[Twista]
Whether murder or bouncy beat, my flow be philosophical
Smokin' on tropical, achievin' all missions impossible
When I up the block at you, I'ma pop at you
If your momma cry there's nothin' I could do
Should not've f*cked with Mr. Illogical
When I'm in to clubbin', clubbin', shake it don't you break it
You booty to shapey, can't take it, wanna see you naked
I don' drunk a boo muthaf*cka, so you know I'm lit up
Everybody get up, spin witha a Twista, it's a stick up
Drag-On (Swizz Beatz):
This where the shit pick up, let me load this clip up,
lust pour me some liquor, Flame-On and Twista,
let's see if you murdered who'll miss ya
I love the dirty south, that's why I gotta dirty mouth
that'll burn you out
Tell your bitch I got a dick that'll turn her out,
especially when I tell her turn around
I don' hurt her now
Shit'll come back, and I think it's time to get murdered now
I'm tired of silly clowns, spittin' out weak shit, sound like my shit
You gon' make me pull a all nighter
Standin' infront of your crib with that gasoline and that lighter
Now hit, we won't miss ya, Drag-On and Twista
(Puttin' it on 'em
Writer: KASSEEM DEAN, CARL TERRELL MITCHELL, MEL SMALLS
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group