( Ganxsta R?dd) 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 (CHORUS) 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 (CHORUS x2) (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 (CHORUS x2) Hit me deuce times (Woof, woof!) (Attention, all D.R. This is a R.A.I.D.) He-he-he-ha-ha