O.T.M (Out the Mud)
Lyrics
Don't let me get it out the mud and throw it in your face
His biggest record ain't even better than my
Uh, yeah
Press Machine (Boy Band)
Yeah, don't let me get it out the mud and throw it in his face
His biggest record ain't even better than my throwaways
I sell a record but I really could sell anything
Car get riddled, di-di-dah
Bullets riddling
Bullets riddling, shit hot, yeah it's crazy
Bullets riddling, bullets hot, yeah they blazing
Bullets hit his back, run Ricky but we chase him
They used to call me Rico when I was serving crack to Jason
Whoa, I'm with the gang and all I know is fuck the rest
I know niggas catch a body like it's something out they chest
I know a nigga serve a junkie now he walking off the edge
It's so hard to click over when my niggas call collect
They keep cutting out the three-way
Questioning for three days
Homicides get beat ayy, they promise he ain't leaving (whaddup?)
Lawyer with no briefcase, and he walk out the station, smiling like a demon
Don't let me get it out the mud and throw it in his face
His biggest record ain't even better than my throwaways
I sell a record but I really could sell anything
Car get riddled, di-di-dah
Bullets riddling
Bullets riddling, shit hot, yeah it's crazy
Bullets riddling, bullets hot, yeah they blazing
Bullets hit his back, run Ricky but we chase him
They used to call me Rico when I was serving crack to Jason, whoa
I wanna live good, if I don't know the business then I go read the book
My nigga, yeah he stuck ain't no leaving the hood
Condo next to the hood
I drop a hit now I'm ready to book, whoa
You see I'm sick I got a Wassa disease, whoa
He get shot and now he washed and deceased, whoa
W, so we double the V, whoa
Homicide this ain't regular D's, whoa
I came up, off of thirty-six O's
You see the police try to hang me with ropes
I went to a hundred from O
I know some niggas that play with they nose
I got some dogs but they don't play with a bone
Yeah, you know how it go
Don't let me get it out the mud and throw it in his face
His biggest record ain't even better than my throwaways
I sell a record but I really could sell anything
Car get riddled, di-di-dah
Bullets riddling
Bullets riddling, shit hot, yeah it's crazy
Bullets riddling, bullets hot, yeah they blazing
Bullets hit his back, run Ricky but we chase him
They used to call me Rico when I was serving crack to Jason, whoa
Writer(s): Quinton Armani Gardner
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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