Out The Way

Lyrics

[Intro] (Cloudy Beatz) Ayy [Verse] Was finna hang that shit up? Well, nigga, start scamming Card crackin' at the Red Rock, countin' cards, gambling Your bitch got some fire mouth, call her Charmander I got her heart in my hands like Damar Hamlin Yeah, I got your bitch whipped like a car jacker Doggy in the hood fucked up, hit the car hazards Marc having his way, I'm sure you knew that though He braggin' 'bout his bitch, I'm scared to tell him that I knew that ho How my skinny bitch got BBW neck? You would've thought my BBW suck me the best Trust me, they gon' stay asleep on you 'til you run up a check Sauce Gardner, I was on the corner, now we on them jets Lacking in the opps' hood, I ain't worried about nothin' They ain't on shit, finna go fuck onе of they cousins Give me likе thirty minutes tops Know we don't 'posed to question you, but why I beef with dirty niggas, God? I was so fucking poor and annoying Let Bianca suck it all night 'cause I got court in the morning You know, just in case They try to slam me for this pistol case At least I elect to let some kids go play inside your bitch today He went to court, spilled more beans than a chili place Nickel on me like a piggy bank, ain't no nigga safe I get pissed and catch a net like the NBA Everywhere I go, my music bump like B2K Pockets look like they stuffed with encyclopedias He on Facebook hatin' on me, I'm not gon' see it I been gettin' chicken off of rapping, it's not no pita Just got a big invoice, I feel like Madea Mouth glisten, top missing while I'm top gettin' Hope the opp don't think I'm a clown 'cause I ride with it Am I tripping or did I wake up with one sock missing? Plug mailed some 'bows to my address like prom pictures I'm not trippin' 'bout shit as long as Don with me Chains on my neck like a slave, that's why I'm picky I said, "Head start," bitch speared me, but I'm not Brittney Fifty on me, in the store stealing Rice Krispies Hop out the long sleeve, suited like a cabaret Court side with a Cuban like I'm at a Dallas game I'm waitin' for a bag of sticks at baggage claim .45 on me like pat-a-cake In the air with them .45s like pat-a-cake Ho, when the pastor pray, you think of me I'm in Cali with a throat demon, G-O-D Got her tongue wrapped under the tip like B.o.B Still sipping, feel like Bill Withers, got lean on me Nigga, why the fuck you cropped the pic? Let me see your feet Bum nigga mad he picked a runner to be your peace BeBe Kidd, rich as hell, tryna buy EBT Nigga, yeah, ayy, keep it going, ayy, yeah Rich as hell, tryna buy somebody food stamps Boy, you broke as fuck, somewhere arguing with a hood rat Bad bitches push up on the Kidd like this boot camp Know I need the top off rip like Fruit Snacks When I say I blew chips, it ain't Cool Ranch How ironic, I be out the way, pockets too fat, nigga