[Verse 1: Shoo42]
She lemme drive, that’s a G ride cuz
Piccin’ the homies up, then we robbin’ all her plugs
Y’all ain’t bustin’ none, got guns to take pics wit’ ‘em
We don’t flex straps cuz, we really takin’ trips wit’ ‘em
Boy you better get ‘em if and when the gang say so
You out on vacay, we in yo house for yo safe though
Pistol to yo face ho now gimme all them pesos
Watch what you text me police investigatin’ though
(heads is what we aimin’ fo’, necc chest and ribs)
You ain’t down to shoot why the fucc your in the whip
She in love wit’ the dicc now she keep my extra clip
She linin’ up them liccs turned her to a gangsta bitch
Baby kay got a sticc i don't need to call the cops
How you call yo’self a gangsta when you beefin’ over thots
And if you wanna sneak diss on this 4200 blocc
We crippin’ but we gon’ pull up in all black to ya spot
[Chorus 1: SAbY]
Bumpin oldies in a G ride
Clutchin on my four five
Throwing up my gang sings
Swervin trough the South Side
Sippin henny till i throw up
Pour some out for the missin souljas
Bitch I thought i told ya
Its hoes down and foes up
[Verse 2: Maccy]
Craccin’ doors, finding keys that’s a G whip
You totin’ guns, making calls that don’t mean shit
On the blocc, gangsta walk where the C’s fit
Baby gangstas on the come up on some G shit
Two minute drive, that’s a twenty minute cruise
Enough time to make it on the mothafuccin’ news
Always geeked so I never gotta hit the snooze
Signed up fucc it if I gotta let it loose
Times up shawty really gotta picc and choose
Walk up now you really gotta hit these foos
On tha gang, gotta gain and maintain though
Brain fried, still hanging like these chains four
Maccin’ hoes, I’m sticcin to the G code
Free my dawgs, I won’t see these niggas fold
Pull that thang out then we gone see that gold
Getting shit for free, it was never fuccin’ sold
[Chorus 2: SAbY]
Bumpin oldies in a G ride
Clutchin on my four five
Throwing up my gang sings
Swervin trough the South Side
Sippin henny till i throw up
Pour some out for the missin souljas
Bitch I thought i told ya
Its hoes down and foes up
[Verse 3: Moeliccs]
Bacc on the scene, so crispy so clean
With two blunts full of that sticcy ass green
Shoo up in the driver seat posted up with Infant
Maccy in the back straight loading up the shotty
Lookin for somebody see the homie RC
Known to keep it craccing all my usos paccing
Fucc you say we laccing your homies need some practice
Your blocc yah were headed to better have a strap or two
Wolfin’ like you shoo foos get you blown like tissue
Giving out that issue duccing from the boys in blue
With the homie fucced up E&J I’m throwing up
Throwing craps collecting funds S.O.S. we mighty sons
Hit a licc it’s on us talking like you gon' bust
Blowing tree likes it’s angels dust OG like my double cup
All my soldiers ready to dump heavy metal heavy metal so we got the drums
Dumb nigga you don’t even want none
[Chorus 3: SAbY]
Bumpin oldies in a G ride
Clutchin on my four five
Throwing up my gang sings
Swervin trough the South Side
Sippin henny till i throw up
Pour some out for the missin souljas
Bitch I thought i told ya
Its hoes down and foes up