Cash Kidd – Barefoot Lyrics | Official Video

Cash Kidd – Barefoot Lyrics

Well, well, well
Last b**ch made me wake up with one sock
B**ch, I went barefoot, haha
The f**k, man Crazy
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ayy

Man, damn, I fell in love with a thot
S**t, I don’t know, it might just be the top
Like a butcher, f**k it, let ’em meet the chop
N**ga get hit by the shell like Barack
Yeah, I go M.I.A. when s**t get hot
S**t, only thing I’m scared of is the cops
They don’t believe the feds real ’til they stuck in that box
Damn, this b**ch head ill, I don’t care if she a thot

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N**gas braggin’ ’bout jail, I respect who ain’t get caught
You ain’t put your people in position, then you ain’t a boss
N**ga got aggressive ’cause my b**ch told him to pay the cost
He was tryna take the box like when they turn the cable off
Lost a couple people that I love, but it ain’t a loss
Devil on my shoulder, I’m like shut up, let the angel talk

It ain’t fun f**kin’ h*es no more ’cause this dick make ’em stalk
She suckin’ my dick so lazy, might just made her walk
Seen my dog losin’ hope, I’m tryna tell him he the G.O.A.T.
It’s a lot of s**t I need, but I ain’t never need a ho
Better watch that slick mouth before we hit you with the scope
When we score, it’s teardrops like I hit ’em with a flow

Man, damn, I fell in love with a thot
S**t, I don’t know, it might just be the top
Like a butcher, f**k it, let ’em meet the chop
N**ga get hit by the shell like Barack
Yeah, I go M.I.A. when s**t get hot
S**t, only thing I’m scared of is the cops
They don’t believe the feds real ’til they stuck in that box
Damn, this b**ch head ill, I don’t care if she a thot

You ain’t send no pape’, you left your mans in there to rot
Hyped that n**ga way up, now your mans up in the sky
We was robbin’ everything, put your hands up in the sky
Like Edward Scissorhands, lay in your grass and get to choppin’ s**t
They say early bird get the worm, we was robbin’ s**t
When they said, Why you ain’t droppin’ s**t We was droppin’ s**t
I ain’t gotta swipe no more, but still be swipin’ s**t
Feel like Michael Vick, come out the pocket for some spiky kicks
Sick n**gas braggin’ ’bout that lil’ n**ga fashion
I got rich n**ga habits, I got big n**ga status

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Lot of sticks like a cactus, come get hit with a package
Yeah, we runnin’ through the motherf**kin’ scripts like this practice
Bands and drums, don’t get nicked with the cannon
Stick on like a magnet, call me Prince, keep the ratchet
Damn, I think they on to us, f**k it, I’ma still chance it
Told my ex-b**ch to cry me a river, Kilpatrick
Ayy, it be the ones that talk the most s**t that be the poorest
Free them boys, f**k the hook like I don’t need a chorus
Just cut this one freak off ’cause when she ’round, she keep recording
B**ch, I’m so f**kin’ up, but not a sleep disorder, ayy

Damn, I fell in love with a thot
S**t, I don’t know, it might just be the top
Like a butcher, f**k it, let ’em meet the chop
N**ga get hit by the shell like Barack
Yeah, I go M.I.A. when s**t get hot
S**t, only thing I’m scared of is the cops
They don’t belieνe the feds real ’til they stuck in that box
Damn, this b**ch head ill, I don’t care if she a thot…

➤ Written by Cash Kidd
Album: No Socks
Produced by JayGotThePlug
Cash Kidd | 2020

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