| Cut’em all out when the bustas found
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| Pop, pop, piggity pop, that be the sound
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| Low down wit' the monster hump (bump bump!)
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| Buckin' wit' the monster Pump (dump dump)
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| Jump, jump go 'da town when the Rydas on
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| Pump, pump go the bucket with a dawg of his own
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| At your funeral you’re dead, but that ain’t nuttin
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| Best bet badass Bullet be Dumpin'
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| From the East-side out to the Southwest
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| Psychopathic Rydas puttin' slugs in your chest
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| Bitch, nobody move heads down!
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| You don’t wanna see me clown, mother fucka!
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| Psychopathic Rydas Dumpin'
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| Psychopathic Rydas hey!
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| (Monoxide Child AKA Foe Foe)
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| We doin' ride-by's, on freestyle bikes
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| I hit a wheely on the lawn and bust it out on site
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| I give a fuck bitch, talk shit and get clipped
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| Knock your fuckin' teeth through your lip (yea!)
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| Actin' wild as fuck, cuz' my jam came on
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| (And you know thug niggas gotta sing that song!)
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| I got 18 shots (buck buck), and I won’t miss once
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| All black trucks with the bumps
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| Shootin' out the window, every single time the wind blow
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| Blazin' up another bag a indo |
| Foe Foe be the alias
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| Run up on you bare, bitches, so you scared of us (Eastside!)
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| (Jamie Madrox AKA Lil' Shank)
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| I’mma pull my trigga', and peel yo' cap
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| My money runnin' low and I needs my sack
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| Yo' 6−4 is bumpin' and I needs me a ride
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| Lean to the right lane and then I’ll slide
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| Lay yo' ass out on the cold cement
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| Before I dump in that ass I’mma scream my set «See I’mma Ryda!»
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| (Overlap) (Shaggy 2 Dope AKA Full Clip)
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| Oh see, mu' fuckas like me
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| We don’t give a fuck, it’s like «what what!?»
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| You wanna come steppin'? |
| then I’ll hafta see ya
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| Leave ya open an burnin' like a case of gonorrhea
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| From some old dirty bitch that you was humpin
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| And pumpin like my gauge bitchass, we dumpin'!
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| (Blaze Ya Dead Homie AKA Cell Block)
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| Stick your mother fuckin' hands up
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| Got the hammer cocked, close your eyes I’m finna dump
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| Comin' out the register wit' all that green and cheddar cheese
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| So what you seen me, nigga please
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| Move fast, bloody cash on the floor… gotta
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| Make my way to the fuckin' door… gotta
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| Make my way to the hideout |
| Who dunnit? |
| Yea they tryin' to find out (shiiit)
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| Now, I’m on the street, wit' my swerves
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| Cops, tryin' to catch cuz' I’m on the swerve
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| But I’mma clever mother fucker never catch me
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| And if they come my direction they gone' catch these Dumpin'! |