psychopathic rydas - scrimps lyrics
(foe foe:)
24 wit the gold tip, scrimps and juice
all platinum wit the gold grip, about to get loose
triple black windows like who dat is?
foe foe and the rydas in the big body benz
all my friends is close, and my enemies closer
til wind up pictured, on the have you seen me? poster
sippin on the neach wit hoes feedin me grapes
i had to get up out the hood into a gated estate
all the haters need to back the f-ck up
before i back the truck up,
and leave your crew all shot and stuck up
in the hood, all the money in the world aint nuttin
that’s why they always hate you for sumthin
m-th-f-ckas!
(full clip:)
ryda convoy rollin’ tough again
black hummer h2 on the 42 spins
scrimp and juice bar, restin in the console
foldaway hatch with the strippers pole
lil shank comin through wit a gang of chickens
and plenty of that nose candy for them hoes that dippin
takin b-tches down, send em home wit limps
and i be sippin on my juice and double dippin my scrimps
(chorus: x2)
you got that juice and scrimp,
don’t ride boy
you’s a pimp
(get your money right)
can i ride wit you?
boy let me ride wit you!
(get your money right)
(bullet:)
get off my plate b-tch, my scrimp
i walk wit a pimp limp, i’m no simp
im a ryda, even when i walk im ridin
in the small of my back is a glock i’m hidin
when i pull out, m-th-f-ckas fo’heads blow out
im one them thugs, the reason you don’t go out
me and lil shank, full clip, and cell block
ride wit us, we drop you off sh-ll shocked
juice and scrimps, gangsta fury
don’t worry, weed man comin through in a hurry
and my name, you m-th-f-ckas know my name
you won’t forget it when i bury one deep in yo brain
(sawed off:)
seven days a week, sippin juice, eatin shrimp
bubbagump ain’t got sh-t on me, man i be parlayin’
you would think i’d say bye to sea
cause the hood the whole hood smell fishy
b-tter it up dawg!
barbeque, sautéed, pin fried,
whatever tall gl-ss of homemade wine
juice b-tch its on! when we chillin, it’s like a lunch break
cause thuggin all the time could make a m-th-f-cka hungry
(chorus: x2)
you got that juice and scrimp,
don’t ride boy
you’s a pimp
(get your money right)
can i ride wit you?
boy let me ride wit you!
(get your money right)
(cell block:)
ballin outta control,
my money folds and bills with big faces
and every money is to livin in some suitcases
my scrimp and juice is all swole, and keeps all the rydas tow up
on some dime crystal and any luxury
cell block got the hood unlocked, slangin all types of rock
and kill a m-th-f-cka runnin his spot
it’s my street, it’s my ground and that b-mp is my sound
you can hear my system pound from the other side of town
(lil’ shank:)
since i was knee high to a big wheel
i was always determined to role wit a crew of rydas,
keeping it real
i met bullet, foe foe, full clip, converse, sawed off,
cell block all this sh-t was unheard
but we had mad dreams of makin it big
shrimps and juice, want b-tter on my lobster bib
pimpin, thuggin, rydin, mashin,
seven black trucks parked at the ryda mansion
and it don’t stop,
so go ahead wipe that c-cktail sauce off yo chin
and count that money man!
psychopathic rydas all up in this b-tch
and we don’t give a sh-t
go ahead and get your shrimp!
(chorus: x4)
you got that juice and scrimp,
don’t ride boy
you’s a pimp
(get your money right)
can i ride wit you?
boy let me ride wit you!
(get your money right)
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