Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song May 8th, artist - Cash Kidd. Date of issue: 05.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
May 8th |
| Just the pants and a shirt, damn near cost a nickel |
| Been broke all your life, you ain’t gon' ever solve the riddle |
| She throw the neck for everybody, she the artificial |
| These niggas never drop shit like they argumentive |
| Pull up to the scene, they like «there go Marc' bitch.» |
| If getting money is a must, then I can’t smell your armpit |
| Same bitch you hatin' on me to gon' fuck me off rip |
| Used to wear my dawg shit, now I’m up dog shit |
| Can’t leave the game, bitch, I’m knee-deep |
| Never needed hoes, bitches need me |
| Just took a trip to Arizona, not the sweet tea |
| Stop tryna do fraud, but it’s hard when everything free |
| Just fucked the shit out your thot, to a deep sleep |
| Nigga don’t get beat by the chop, like Chief Keef |
| Swan, that’s my brother, you see him then you gon' see me |
| SWV, I’m the reason your bitch knees weak |
| You might catch me daydreaming, cause I stay scheming |
| Nigga you a fake demon, your bitch late creepin' |
| When you call, she fake sleepin' while she taste semen |
| Countin' money I keep prayin', have to thank Jesus |
| When we slide on a nigga, bitch that drac' |
| Load the 40 on me, loadin' up some bank pieces |
| Nigga check the scoreboard, cause we ain’t even, at all |
| Why you ain’t believe in your dawg? |
| I had vision seein' us ball |
| Baby, why ain’t you believe in your nigga? |
| What you ain’t see in your nigga? |
| That you thought you see in those niggas? |
| Weighin' up some money I thought I’d never have |
| Chip on my shoulder, reason why I’m in my bag |
| Now I’m on posters, I got friends I never had |
| My bitch get spoiled cause she really never ask |
| A hunnid choppers strike me wrong and that’s your ass |
| If it’s a problem pull up suited like the mask |
| Hopped out my feelings then I hopped right in my bag |
| Got out my feelings like my teeth was hurtin' bad |
| Ay |
| Twenty thousand, fifty bands, bitch, a hunnid ball! |
| Last man standing, we want every one of y’all |
| Give a fuck about a slut at all |
| I know bitches ain’t down for me, so I’mma punt the ball |
| When I needed love, you ain’t look out |
| Lost up on her, fell in love with some good mouth |
| Look how times change, fresh as fuck after cookout |
| Damn near got a thirty-ball, like a three point shootout |
| Your bitch runnin' wild, put your foot down |
| Hammer with the ladder, like I’m working on a new house |
| Ridin' with the ladder, like a fire gettin' put out |
| Know a couple people feel I turned my back on 'em |
| I just had to get right, I was comin' back for 'em |
| 'Bout twenty racks on 'em, all kinds of straps on 'em |
| 45, 47, felt like Mike Epps on 'em |
| Pussy so good, I cut her off and got back focused |
| Come and get your bitch on fire, stiff-armed neck |
| So she a ten, I’mma hire her |
| Like I threw out a jack, just bought a just for my bitch, I ride with her on my |
| lap |
| Pull up to the bank, like «gimmie ten,» this for play-play |
| Bank teller a fan, he just called me by my stage name |
| How you think I’m doing bank plays? |
| 'Bout to slide down, keep dick-suckin' my fake page |
| Get a little money, everybody swear they ain’t fake |
| Same ones left a nigga hangin', like the K. K |
| But that’s how shit go, took a plane cause I’m blessed |
| Man, these hoes so foul, I should complain to the ref |
| Your main bitch foul, she love the gang and she said «y'all petty.» |
| My nigga don’t slide for the love like R. Kelly |
| Yeah, you stabbed me in my back but those scars helped me |
| Why you ain’t believe in your dawg? |
| I had vision seein' us ball |
| Baby, why ain’t you believe in your nigga? |
| What you ain’t see in your nigga? |
| That you thought you see in those niggas? |