[Intro: Bullet]
-listenin' to that bullshit!
Fuck that bullshit!
I’m gonna petition to get this out of the stores! (Bullshit!)
Get this shit out the motherfuckin' streets! (Bullshit!)
I got kids, motherfucker! (Motherfucker)
And my kids are my responsibility! (Bullshit!)
This is bullshit! (Bullshit!)
I don't want ’em listenin' to this bullshit!
[Verse 1: Cell Block]
They shootin' bones in the park after dark for dollars
Sayin' "School is for fools!", livin' like street scholars
Young Rydas carry bookbags of all types of good shit
With a .22 in his right shoe and he ain't afraid to use it
Tossin' up gang signs, ragged up in red and blue
Lost his little baby teeth, now he rockin' a gold tooth
On the brand-new iPhone, braggin’ to his crew
Ah, the pigs will never stop him, man, his folks don’t have a clue
My lil' Rydas!
[Verse 2: Bullet]
Lil Rydas sell meth to classmates and sеrve out they locker
Don’t givе a shit about a old man, kick his ass up out his rocker
Little badasses gettin' head up in juvenile court
Swervin' on skateboards and smokin', ain’t but three feet short
Strollers with spinners and platinum binkies and chewers
Bottles full of them fruity-ass Jack Daniels coolers
Seven-year-olds grippin' candy-painted navigators
Chewin' [?], fuckin' runnin' second-graders
-listenin' to that bullshit!
Fuck that bullshit!
I’m gonna petition to get this out of the stores! (Bullshit!)
Get this shit out the motherfuckin' streets! (Bullshit!)
I got kids, motherfucker! (Motherfucker)
And my kids are my responsibility! (Bullshit!)
This is bullshit! (Bullshit!)
I don't want ’em listenin' to this bullshit!
[Verse 1: Cell Block]
They shootin' bones in the park after dark for dollars
Sayin' "School is for fools!", livin' like street scholars
Young Rydas carry bookbags of all types of good shit
With a .22 in his right shoe and he ain't afraid to use it
Tossin' up gang signs, ragged up in red and blue
Lost his little baby teeth, now he rockin' a gold tooth
On the brand-new iPhone, braggin’ to his crew
Ah, the pigs will never stop him, man, his folks don’t have a clue
My lil' Rydas!
[Verse 2: Bullet]
Lil Rydas sell meth to classmates and sеrve out they locker
Don’t givе a shit about a old man, kick his ass up out his rocker
Little badasses gettin' head up in juvenile court
Swervin' on skateboards and smokin', ain’t but three feet short
Strollers with spinners and platinum binkies and chewers
Bottles full of them fruity-ass Jack Daniels coolers
Seven-year-olds grippin' candy-painted navigators
Chewin' [?], fuckin' runnin' second-graders
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