| Yeah, what the hell you know about the Rydas? |
| Black
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| trucks and hoods bitch! |
| Shit, you better check that,
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| hell…
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| Yo! |
| I’m a killa
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| Cap peela
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| Other bitches is wack, but Rydas are for rilla
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| Gimme all your skrilla
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| Your keys to your ride
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| Tell your bitch to leave her purse with the wallet inside
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| Ain’t no frontin'
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| When Cell Block starts dumpin'
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| Through your neighborhood our black trucks be bumpin'
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| Watch your mouth, peep game, and learn somethin'
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| Nigga, check nuts, 'cause I’m killin’ova nuttin'
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| Now I be ridin’with my shotty
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| A fifth of Bicardi
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| My nose snotty
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| In the party
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| Intentions to levitate her body
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| Give a fuck who he with or who he know
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| Let the barrel blow
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| Or a quarrel know
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| Over somethin’that he borrowed, no Do the math
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| On the warpath
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| Makin’predictions to the body count
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| I even blast a hotty now
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| Sprayin’couples 'cause I loved you
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| So fuck you
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| I don’t gang bang 'cause I’m strugglin'
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| Bee-yatch! |
| Yo I’m a killa ova nuttin'
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| Killa ova nuttin', a Ryda ain’t ashamed!
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| Wettin’mothafuckas up over anything! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Gun em’down, baby down!
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| Dumpin’from the east to the westside of town!
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| Killa ova nuttin', a Ryda ain’t ashamed!
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| Wettin’mothafuckas up over anything!
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| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Gun em’down, baby down!
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| Dumpin’from the east to the westside of town!
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| Now I knew this bitch, yo, she used to love me Buffin’on my pickle, peace, everything was lovely
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| Forties and Swishers delivered to my doorstep
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| Early in the mornin', neden on my woodpeck
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| Livin’lavish, every call beckoned on
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| I’m the big Full Clip and bitches all pause, anyway, with no reason for drama
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| I killed that muthafuckin’bitch and her mama
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| Still doin’drive-bys and leavin’hoes for dead
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| Mislead
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| Is what my homeboy said
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| I ain’t no bitch hoe, end your life on G.P.
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| With ya whole family
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| On the lawn staring at me And I could could give a fuck, get to lookin’at my gat
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| Get to feindin’like a basehead, to leave you hoes flat
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| Two-Gats got my back
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| Killa ova nuttin', that’s a fact
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| Get out my face or get it slapped, bitch
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| Killa ova nuttin', a Ryda ain’t ashamed! |
| Wettin’mothafuckas up over anything!
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| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Gun em’down, baby down!
|
| Dumpin’from the east to the westside of town!
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| Killa ova nuttin', a Ryda ain’t ashamed!
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| Wettin’mothafuckas up over anything!
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| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Gun em’down, baby down!
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| Dumpin’from the east to the westside of town!
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| I was born with the biggest chip on my shoulder
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| I killed little kids and took they strollers
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| I’m older, tie you up instead
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| And blow red lettuce out the side of your head
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| (pa-tow!!)
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| You could die any minute
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| Turn your back, and get a hollow point slug in it You bit it Over nuttin’at all
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| Now they serve peanuts out your skull
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| At barbecues
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| I been wonderin’what the fuck you been lookin’at
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| You know it ain’t no thang for me to get my gat
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| And blow holes in your frame till you look like an afgan
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| Body collapsed, soul fly like Peter Pan
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| Lil’Shank from the hood, raised in bad ways
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| Peel your fuckin’cap 'cause I’m havin’a bad day
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| Hey, you can be a thug if you want to But I’ma be a Ryda bitch, so fuck you!
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| Killa ova nuttin', a Ryda ain’t ashamed! |
| Wettin’mothafuckas up over anything!
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| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Gun em’down, baby down!
|
| Dumpin’from the east to the westside of town!
|
| Killa ova nuttin', a Ryda ain’t ashamed!
|
| Wettin’mothafuckas up over anything!
|
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Pop! |
| Gun em’down, baby down!
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| Dumpin’from the east to the westside of town! |