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ridin’ with that - bak jay & chuckyy كلمات أغنية

[intro: bak jay]
(wardo, what the h_ll goin’?)
b_tch, i got this ho for a reason, n_gga
why the f_ck you be ridin’ with that?
i like puttin’ opps in hats (yes, jayco)

[chorus: bak jay]
d_mn, why the f_ck he be ridin’ with that? (f_ck he be ridin’ with that?)
like he ain’t got sh_t to lose? n_gga, i like puttin’ opps in hats (i like puttin’ opps in hats)
i like puttin’ b_ttons on all of my glocks, this b_tch right here shoot fast
talkin’ ’bout f_ckin’, i told her i’m cool, d_mn, then the b_tch got mad (d_mn)

[verse 1: bak jay]
then the b_tch got sad, whole lot of, hang on, this b_tch got ass
he tried to move, he all in the suburbs, we finna spin through that ho with class (baow, baow)
all that dissin’, he thinkin’ he safe, h_ll nah, n_gga, we saved the best for last
don’t none of my n_ggas be duckin’ thе crash, flexin’ his money, we takin’ his cash (takin’ his sh_t)
hold on, i think i see him (think i see him)
whеn you see me, know you see this ice on me, white tee on
ran through so much racks in like six months, don’t know how much i spent
don’t speak on the drill, just know a n_gga ass got k!lled, so many blocks got bent (brrt, brrt)

[refrain: bak jay]
why you be ridin’ with that? i don’t know sh_t, why you be ridin’ with that? (why you be ridin’ with that?)
why you be ridin’ with that? i don’t know sh_t, why you be ridin’ with that? (i don’t know)
why you be ridin’ with that? i blow sh_t, boy, don’t get pushed back
we smoke sh_t, just got another pack
handlin’ business, these b_tches get me off track
[chorus: bak jay]
d_mn, why the f_ck he be ridin’ with that? (f_ck he be ridin’ with that?)
like he ain’t got sh_t to lose? n_gga, i like puttin’ opps in hats (i like puttin’ opps in hats)
i like puttin’ b_ttons on all of my glocks, this b_tch right here shoot fast
talkin’ ’bout f_ckin’, i told her i’m cool, d_mn, then the b_tch got mad (d_mn)

[verse 2: chuckyy & bak jay]
uh
hop out, bl!ck, drac’ or b_tton, sh_t go off like trumpets (brr)
we don’t sneaky slide, in middle school, we was linkin’ up to stomp sh_t
chuckyy don’t party in functions, i’m probably outside in waitin’
i barely pop out with micro, tuck the 10, know that’s my favorite (brrt, brrt)
super kit up in the ‘rari, stomp the gas, it get to shakin’
we don’t tolerate no backdoor, we’ll walk up on ’em, face ’em (for real)
12 bust a u, foenem skate ’em, .308 wake up the neighbor (for real)
ain’t no room, well, then scoot over, know i fell in love with blazin’
pour more lean and grab more ‘bow, don’t pass my blunt, you know i’m facin’
your b_tch say that i’m her favorite, gta, we leave sh_t wasted
glizzy right there where my waist be, club security not gon’ search me
sometimes tuck the micro in my jumpsuit, make it poke on purpose (brrt, don’t try me)

- ridin with that

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