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letra de we got mad slugs - the rydas

we’re sorry…

[verse 1: jamie madrox]
neoprene mask run your pocket cash and your weed stash don’t make me blast
on your p-ss -ss
run your hood p-ss, real thug sh-t
those that we mash like potatoes still no love for you finna get faked hoes
and we gon’ meet halfway picking a bankroll
maybe you should lay low cuffing you still owe
ain’t n0body ‘fraid of you fraudulent f-ck foes and i will be ready when they come in to kick door
four in the chest
one up in your big dome you better be prepared when you f-ck with a psycho
hole in your head about the size of an ozone
f-ck with the rydas and you know how we gon’ roll
mask on you suckers like you (?)
and death to you b-tches on your grave is a black rose

[verse 2: young wicked]
stay with a gat, aim for the hat, i bang for the set i’m drippin’ (drippin’)
reach for the tec y’all bleed from the neck
i speak for the vets i’m vicious (vicious)
load up the ak
blow up the hate train
hoes wanna bang me, listen (listen)
we got mad slugs and we off mad bud and forty bottles of that liquid (woo!)
olde english, hoes fiend us, smoke the greenest, keep loading heaters (that pop!)
doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo brratt shoot up ya block
ima just blast, buckin’ and blappin’ em
reloading my sh-t and keep blasting them (slugs)
blahp blahp pap pap blahp
my gats finna rap at them

[chorus: jamie madrox]
lay it down or get shot in the face
all my rydas up in the place don’t give a f-ck about none of y’all
not at all, not one of y’all
we got mad slugs for all of y’all
we got mad slugs for all of y’all
we got mad slugs for all of y’all (gunshot)
we got mad slugs for all of y’all
we got mad slugs for all of y’all
we got mad slugs for all of y’all (gunshot)

[verse 3: the r.o.c.]
i don’t bang got no l!ck won’t run b-tch so get it straight
k!ll ’em all where they congregate
everybody dead thats their fate
first mistake – eye contact
second mistake – should have ran track
send it through your back, partners yelling “theirs more ammo for me to blow”
too slow to pull ya sh-t, i split ya sh-t one shot b-tch
whole crew get smoked too tryna sprint towards that trunk fool
shelter families from the blast
get down! load the
hitta i got one thousand rounds so much gun powder i’m sniffin’ out
no love for your side, man down

[verse 4: blaze ya dead homie]
rydas
east side
head for the dome close to spine
sick and bl–dy and no lie its colombian neckties
(?) out of mac clips
(?) like i’m unloading it
ain’t n0body ever been colder than the veteran let it sink in
i was born to win, born to be the one they all wanna emulate
roll with the thugs who can relate
not them b-tches that menstruate
all them b-tches better pray i bet some innocent
cause somebody getting wet
thats a promise and not a threat b-tch

[verse 5: lex the hex master]
first shot miss
second shot hit
third shot rip
spin and turn blocks
no return shots
no birdbox, watch (watch)
and that sh-t smell like the 4th of july
no 6ix9ine n-gga talk and you die
4 to the 5 with the 9s in the ride when i pull up on a ten speed (rahh rahh rahh rahh rahh)
like a savage straight to your cabbage
every shot showing shadow of impact
ricochet going straight through your jacket and if you ain’t dead you atleast gon’ live that

- the rydas

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