Psychopathic Rydas - Killa Ova Nuttin Lyrics

Read Time:3 Minute, 12 Second

Yeah, what the hell you know about the Rydas? Black
trucks and hoods bitch!! Shit, you better check that,
hell…

Yo! Im a killa
Cap peela
Other bitches is wack, but Rydas are for rilla
Gimme all your skrilla
Your keys to your ride
Tell your bitch to leave her purse with the wallet inside
Aint no frontin
When Cell Block starts dumpin
Through your neighborhood our black trucks be bumpin
Watch your mouth, peep game, and learn somethin
Nigga, check nuts, cause Im killin ova nuttin

Now I be ridin with my shotty
A fifth of Bicardi
My nose snotty
In the party
Intentions to levitate her body
Give a fck who he with or who he know
Let the barrel blow
Or a quarrel know
Over somethin that he borrowed, no
Do the math
On the warpath
Makin predictions to the body count
I even blast a hotty now
Sprayin couples cause I loved you
So fck you
I dont gang bang cause Im strugglin
Bee-yatch!! Yo Im a killa ova nuttin

Killa ova nuttin, a Ryda aint ashamed!
Wettin mothafckas up over anything!
Pop! Pop! Pop! Gun em down, baby down!
Dumpin from the east to the westside of town!
Killa ova nuttin, a Ryda aint ashamed!
Wettin mothafckas up over anything!
Pop! Pop! Pop! Gun em down, baby down!
Dumpin from the east to the westside of town!

Now I knew this bitch, yo, she used to love me
Buffin on my pickle, peace, everything was lovely
Forties and Swishers delivered to my doorstep
Early in the mornin, neden on my woodpeck
Livin lavish, every call beckoned on
Im the big Full Clip and bitches all pause, anyway, with no reason for drama

I killed that muthafckin bitch and her mama

Still doin drive-bys and leavin hoes for dead
Mislead
Is what my homeboy said

I aint no bitch hoe, end your life on G.P.
With ya whole family
On the lawn staring at me
And I could could give a fck, get to lookin at my gat
Get to feindin like a basehead, to leave you hoes flat
Two-Gats got my back
Killa ova nuttin, thats a fact
Get out my face or get it slapped, bitch

I was born with the biggest chip on my shoulder
I killed little kids and took they strollers
Im older, tie you up instead
And blow red lettuce out the side of your head
pa-tow!!
You could die any minute
Turn your back, and get a hollow point slug in it
You bit it
Over nuttin at all
Now they serve peanuts out your skull
At barbecues

I been wonderin what the fck you been lookin at
You know it aint no thang for me to get my gat
And blow holes in your frame till you look like an afgan
Body collapsed, soul fly like Peter Pan
Lil Shank from the hood, raised in bad ways
Peel your fckin cap cause Im havin a bad day
Hey, you can be a thug if you want to
But Ima be a Ryda bitch, so fck you!