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eater in a lyft - cash kidd lyrics

[intro]
anton, i know you made this hard*ass beat, boy
can’t f*ck with you, n*gga
ayy
(i like that, anton)

[chorus]
my eater caught a lyft here
i made her get on her lotion, but it ain’t skincare
say when, pick where, i’m knotted up like d*ck hair
loose*ass n*gga need to tighten up like [?][0:26]
snap my fingers, twenty hoes gon’ pop up out of thin air
he won’t hang with gang after the show, but his b*tch there
i’m not used to n*ggas not bein’ haters, man, that sh*t rare
think i need prescription glasses, my b*tches come in pairs

[verse]
ooh*wee, mansion come with twin stairs
bad b*tch and her twin starin’, red bottoms, misspellin’
godd*mn, boy, you should be embarrassed
n*gga went to court and told the truth, n*gga, jim carrey
his run died, he havin’ no motion, miscarriage
she gave her new n*gga my old clothes, bet he still wearin’ ’em
dump the nina, get to ringin’ off like we quit marriage
poked your b*tch all in her stomach like the pillsbury
bad b*tch got my wrist buried, she want me to dig in her
she gon’ pay me just for talkin’ to her, i’m the minister
he can’t understand how his b*tch cheatin’ ’cause he live with her
he think i’m bein’ funny when i say i don’t remember her
million*dollar millionaire, leanin’ like a [?][1:07]
she thought i was missin’ her, seen my new b*tch, finished her
n*gga almost k!lled a b*tch, she told him i couldn’t fit in her
tired of rhymin’ with this word, i’ma switch it, hold up
your lame ass took a honey pack, can’t get no b*tch to show up
this perky get the best of me, i’m finna hit your ho up
i see an opp fourth down, boy, my first gon’ go up
i’m at the pimp convention with my cougar screamin’, “show love”
ayy, is these n*ggas gon’ grow up?
i’m spam textin’ lil’ nel like, “where you at, bro? pull up”
your b*tch put d*ck all in her throat, say that she dietin’, so what?
hop off the jet a lil’ tired like i got a donut
[chorus]
my eater caught a lyft here
i made her get on her lotion, but it ain’t skincare
say when, pick where, i’m knotted up like d*ck hair
loose*ass n*gga need to tighten up like [?]
snap my fingers, twenty hoes gon’ pop up out of thin air
he won’t hang with gang after the show, but his b*tch there
i’m not used to n*ggas not bein’ haters, man, that sh*t rare
think i need prescription glasses, my b*tches come in pairs

- cash kidd lyrics

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