Out The Way - Cash Kidd

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