Psychopathic Rydas

Psychopathic Rydas - Scrimps lyrics

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 fuck 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

Muthafuckas!

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 bitches down, send em home wit limps

And I be sippin on my juice and double dippin my scrimps

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)

Get off my plate bitch, 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, muthafuckas 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 shell shocked

Juice and scrimps, gangsta fury

Don't worry, weed man comin through in a hurry

And my name, you muthafuckas know my name

You won't forget it when I bury one deep in yo brain

Seven days a week, sippin juice, eatin shrimp

Bubbagump ain't got shit on me, man I be parlayin'

you would think I'd say bye to sea

cause the hood the whole hood smell fishy

Butter it up dawg!

Barbeque, sautéed, pin fried,

whatever tall glass of homemade wine

Juice bitch its on! When we chillin, it's like a lunch break

Cause thuggin all the time could make a muthafucka hungry

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)

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 muthafucka runnin his spot

It's my street, it's my ground and that bump is my sound

You can hear my system pound from the other side of town

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 shit was unheard

But we had mad dreams of makin it big

Shrimps and juice, want butter 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 cocktail sauce off yo chin

and count that money man!

Psychopathic Rydas all up in this bitch

And we don't give a shit

Go ahead and get your shrimp!

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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