Lyrics:
kill me by the hoe
She wanna ride da wave , but I ain't got time to play
And I ain't got time to waste
But I got time to fuck
But she already know that
know nothin' about the Maritimes?|I said 'Look b'y, I can tell buy the big spuds on the back of your rig|You must be a spud picker from Prince Edward
smooth 'n pretty
Nothin' so impetuous 'n wild
Nothin' by committee
Not somethin' that smokes up the road
Like a Benson & Hedges
I need somethin'
Whip I drive? Owned by me, wrists and neck, anti-freeze
Can it be? I'm who you dying to be'
Last of a dying breed, I'm Siamese
Twin pistol shooter
dropped the bitches off now I'm
Off to my uncle house
Stopped by the liquor store
Nothing but the thugs out
White tees and Chucks
One nigga hit me up like
gave him the gas face
And this ain't got nothin' to do with a scale
Or bein' gay, little faggot, but by the way
Thoughts are gettin' darker by the day
lil' niggas nothin' but some cowards
Lil' niggas nothin' but some feathers (nope, nothin' but some feathers)
I see stars in ceilings, I see scars
by a single lightbulb
Swung through a you-turn and stopped in a cloud of dust
I opened the door and got out
But my benefactor made no move to follow
I'm her baby daddy, I ain't even got her pregnant (well, damn)
I fucked her with protection, but we instantly connected (yeah)
Nothin' like them other
Sip the bottle till the whole things gone
Know you tired of the same damn song
Cause I been out all night long
Like I'm sorry I ain't hear my
Sip
with women
Dinin' and laughin'
But this environment got us violent
Ready to crash
Into society, take the driver's seat
Hope you're fastened
Your seat
Yeah, I'm off the Hennebeeto and a couple baddies out of Puerto Rico
I'm servin' them bottles, they like charizo
They don't like it clear, they
There ain't a driver, or a rig, a-runnin' any line
Ain't seen nothin' but taillights from Phantom 309
Well, we rode and talked the better part
know me, that's my motto
Why you frontin'?
You talk allota shit but you ain't really saying nothin'
You claim you making moves but you ain't really doing
nothin'
The big axe is Paul Bunyan
Blood splatter from his bladder
Docs was all buggin'
Like, "We knew he was bold
But can't believe the gall of him"
Bitch,
a light
I'm not surprised
How did I get here?
How did I get here?
How did I get here?
How did I get here?
Bottle rocket
How did I get here?
Bottle rocket
With a rusty gun, but the shit still spit
Rubber bands on the handle: The New York grip
"And all my niggas in the pen
Here we go again
Ain't nothin
know we don't give a fuck it's not your birthday
You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
heard some repercussions
Nothin' but some deep adjustments
But my depth of self ain't gonna help me swim my seas corrupted
Divin' divin' divin' hopin' I
up, get high like space
Like Donald Trump, we love no franklins
Pop bottles, fuck models
Move the thing, no bus driver
We are owd men, like Conan
Team
That's a real big mistake
(Gonna have a new driver
By the end of the day)
cll the paparazzi and the fans
Try to stop us
(So we gettin' airlifted
By
all to shame
There ain't a driver, or a rig, a-runnin' any line
Ain't seen nothin' but taillights from Phantom 309."
Well, we rode and talked
with me
From the hood, probably do a drive-by with me
She cut the AC on she know I ride with heat
I got the fie on me respect the driver please
Any
bitch, bitch)
Real, real Rydas up in this bitch
(Bitch, bitch, bitch)
I'm a Ryda, y'all crew ain't nothin'
But soft-ass shit talk
All of y'all frontin'
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