Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Out The Way , by - Cash Kidd. Release date: 30.03.2023
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Out The Way |
| Was finna hang that shit up? Well nigga, start scamming |
| Card cracking at the Red Rock, counting 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 bragging about his bitch, I’m scared to tell him that I knew that hoe |
| Um, my skinny bitch got BBW neck |
| You would’ve thought my BBW suck me the best |
| Trust me, they gon' stay sleep on you, 'til you run up a check |
| Sauce Gardner, I was on the corner, now we on them jets |
| Walking in the oops hood, I ain’t worried about nothin' |
| They ain’t on shit, finna go fuck one of they cousins |
| Give me like 30 minutes tops, know we don’t supposed to question you but why I |
| beef with dirty niggas God |
| I was so fucking poor and annoying like 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 hating on me, I’m not gonna see it |
| I been getting chicken off of rapping, it’s not no Pita |
| Just got a big invoice, I feel like Madea |
| Mouth glisten, top lifted while I’m top getting |
| 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 some prom pictures |
| I’m not tripping about shit as long as Don with me |
| Chains around my neck like a slave, that’s why I’m picky |
| I said «Head start», bitch speared me, but I’m not Brittney |
| 50 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 waiting for a bag of sticks at baggage claim |
| 4−5 on me like Patty Cake |
| In the air with them .45s like Patty Cake |
| Ho, when the pastor pray, hope 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, now 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, aye, keep it going, aye, 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 |