R.A.I.D.

Man
 All I know when we get out
 We finna roll
 Check this one out
 Brothers, do we got bass?
 (all) (Yes, we got bass)
 Too many busters out there on the streets
 We gonna have to take em out
 (Go on with it, Ridd)
 (VERSE 1: Ganxsta R? dd)
 But before we go on, my name's Ridd, not Ren
 It's me again, comin out the lock-in
 O.M.B., my brother, bring on the bass
 There's dollars to be made and posses to waste
 Pass by the hood to pick up the gat
 Stop by the studio for the new track
 Q Ball rollin, 8 Ball in the pocket
 Just bail on stage and pull the mic out the socket
 Boo-Yaa dogs (woof!) locked on the canine
 It's '89, it's time to get mine
 This madness, you never had this
 Home of the O.G.'s (we threw out all the faggots)
 I'm pluggin my microphone with full-equipped lyrics
 MC's smell the smoke of my mic and they fear it
 I'm known to be the hanger for the MC's I hang
 I throw a riddle, it come back like a boomerang
 We're not here to play
 We're just here to spray
 This is a
 (all)
 R.A.I.D.
 Everybody on the dancefloor
 R.A.I.D.
 (Woof!)
 You gotta know this one
 (VERSE 2: Ganxsta R? dd)
 If knowledge is power, then I'm muscle-bound
 Loc'ed out as a hound, I'm not down in a dog pound
 Breakin out, MC's start fakin out
 Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., time to start takin out
 MC's come and MC's go
 For all the MC's that go is too slow for my .44
 I peel em at the frontdo' (*shot*)
 (Boo-yaa!) Then I drag em to the backdo'
 Then I say, "You want some more, then say no more"
 (Why is that?) Because I'm just too hardcore
 So you know Ridd packs a .44
 Bring on the rap jam and let's roll
 (VERSE 3: Ganxsta R? dd)
 (Put Riddler on the roof) cause I shoot the vics
 My mission was to shoot straight to the chicks
 I filed a contract, not to confess
 Found out that the buster had a bullet-proof vest
 (So what did you do?) I had nothin to say
 Pulled out my Uzi and I started to spray
 Went to the morgue to identify his body
 (Yeah, that's him,? posse at the party)
 I'm not prankster, word to Godfather, I'm a gangsta
 And this is the time I'd like to give thanks to
 All my brothers for doin it (their way)
 And now it's my way, we're not here to play
 Boo-Yaa - please, who can match?
 Like a purse on Imperial (you will get snatched)
 And like a Camel in the county (you will get smoked)
 And when the Riddler took the loco toll (that was loc'ed)
 Check out O.M.B., my bassman, forget the turntable
 (Island) the name of my record label
 That's the reason my jams sound so hard
 Cause it's boomin from a bailin car
 Down the boulevard and we don't stop
 Cause all you posses get mopped, get dropped
 We rock the party, steal all the ladies
 Since it's '89 we're in the Eighties
 Hit me deuce times
 (Woof, woof!)
 (Attention, all D.R.
 This is a R.A.I.D.)
 He-he-he-ha-ha