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Lyrics #ofb Js - Ride Out

Psychs
(What, what, what, what)
(Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait)
I'm in the back of this car, no taxi
Sadly, I beg a man please try mad me
You'll see this hand ting get handy
Live-O corn when I slap this badly
One in the head, jump out and get tappy
I didn't catch him, I didn't go back happy

Pattys, pattys, some fucking pattys
Bally up, spot man and get splashy
Switch, you don't wanna see me switch
Up off the moped with a stick, no witch
The sweet ones stepped out in drip
Three balls in her tongue, this brown skins thick
Telling me she rates my songs and dick
Back Rambos, not a fan of flicks
This .38 hand ting holds six, with bae I ca
n't slip
I could talk on bare mans name, 15
That was me on the ride with my blade
Then the next two rides, man went on the wap
Got brought, the spinner and the gauge
If you don't see no one at tops or-
Tryna just ching man out of their J's, ayy
Broski holdin' the clutch then brake
Bros too tapped, he keeps on squeezing
Sneezing, this is the shotgun season
Get back gang where the dotty's revealing
S slapped it, jumped out and beat it
Gang 'dem crash, no Flight of the Phoenix
Two in the dots for five of these eediats
Shh, got cheffed up and then left bleeding
Lack on the road, that's normal procedures

These opp boys must've gone ku ku
'Cause I'm really on drills, no fibs
Man's holding a fuck off chings
If you see Double Lz, step round with a limp
Always two guns up in the whip
Slap that quick, watch his whole body twitch
Don't think you can ride on the Nizz
Man slide right back in a tinted whip
If I slap this corn out the hand ting
It's a mad ting if I press this trigger
Six man squashed in this dinger

Chest shot chinger, jump out gang with this spinner
This opp thot come way too inna
She don't know who's the driller
To all the opp boys, it's your friends we bill up
No reaction, they don't ride for their nigga
I'm on the ol' ten tours with my soldiers
I don't beef my age, I got beef with olders
Man crash this corn off motors
His shotgun slaps and it flings my shoulder
Fucking joker

Carnage, tryna spill juice, that's soaker
And they both got poked up (yo)
I'm tryna do it like Boogs
Fling blades in hoods but they got broski on the case
This shotgun come long like Grace
Half to half it so it comes in the rave
On the stage with H, big shank on my waist
Gang changing plates
Tape off your estates then head straight back to the base
This sweet one keeps talking 'bout dates
If I slap this gauge, whole neighbourhood awakes
Bro Kush put his foot on the brakes
My driller backed it and try hit that face
Either way, it works both ways
Bro's drunk off Wrays, got corn for days

So I don't get blammed on the mains
I'm in the back of this car, no taxi
Sadly, I beg a man please try mad me
You'll see this hand ting get handy
Live-O corn when I slap this badly
One in the head, jump out and get tappy
I didn't catch him, I didn't go back happy
Pattys, pattys, some fucking pattys
Bally up, spot man and get splashy
Switch, you don't wanna see me switch
Up off the moped with a stick, no witch
The sweet ones stepped out in drip

Three balls in her tongue, this brown skins thick
Telling me she rates my songs and dick
Back Rambos, not a fan of flicks
This .38 hand ting holds six, bae I can't slip
I could talk on bare mans name, 15
That was me on the ride with my blade
Then the next two rides, man went on the wap
Got brought, the spinner and the gauge
If you don't see no one at tops or-
Tryna just ching man out of their J's, ayy
Broski holdin' the clutch then brake