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may 8th - cash kidd lyrics

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(i’m kured!)

just the pants and a shirt, d*mn 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 n*ggas never drop sh*t like they argumentive

pull up to the scene, they like “there go marc’ b*tch.”
if getting money is a must, then i can’t smell your armpit
same b*tch you hatin’ on me to gon’ f*ck me off rip
used to wear my dawg sh*t, now i’m up dog sh*t

can’t leave the game, b*tch, i’m knee*deep
never needed hoes, b*tches need me
just took a trip to arizona, not the sweet tea
stop tryna do fraud, but it’s hard when everything free

just f*cked the sh*t out your thot, to a deep sleep
n*gga 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 b*tch knees weak

you might catch me daydreaming, cause i stay scheming
n*gga you a fake demon, your b*tch late creepin’
when you call, she fake sleepin’ while she taste s*m*n
countin’ money i keep prayin’, have to thank jesus
when we slide on a n*gga, b*tch that drac’ [?]
load the 40 on me, loadin’ up some bank pieces
n*gga 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 n*gga?
what you ain’t see in your n*gga?
that you thought you see in those n*ggas?

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 b*tch 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 t**th was hurtin’ bad

ay
twenty thousand, fifty bands, b*tch, a hunnid ball!
last man standing, we want every one of y’all
give a f*ck about a sl*t at all
i know b*tches 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 f*ck after cookout
d*mn near got a thirty*ball, like a three point shootout
[?]
your b*tch 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

p*ssy so good, i cut her off and got back focused
come and get your b*tch 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 b*tch, 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 d*ck*suckin’ my fake page

get a little money, everybody swear they ain’t fake
same ones left a n*gga hangin’, like the k.k
but that’s how sh*t go, took a plane cause i’m blessed
man, these hoes so foul, i should complain to the ref

your main b*tch foul, she love the gang and she said “y’all petty.”
my n*gga 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 n*gga?
what you ain’t see in your n*gga?
that you thought you see in those n*ggas?

- cash kidd lyrics

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