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Way Out
by YelaWolf

Cinnamon seats, dashboard flakes, yeah, sprayed out
Drunk as a fool, throwing that Jimmy back until I’m laid out
Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy s**t, I’m talking way out
Dude, I’m way out – I’m talking way out
Rolling country side anywhere that I go, hey now
Drunk on ‘Quake, cops pulling off they telling me “turn it way down”
Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy s**t, I’m talking way out
Dude, I’m way out – I’m talking way out

Yeah – intergalactic, out of my mind and into traffic
In the pepper Converse tryna climb out
And risk it with nothing in my backpack
It’s me: a son of a b***h, a child of a prick
A stepson you don’t wanna hit
Ooo wee, no, not him – not Lil Wayne, Michael Wayans
Who you thought it was, B?
Damn right, and I’m on a tightrope
Screaming out “die bitch”, f**k my life
I ain’t never give a f**k, I could never give a f**k now
So put the chain on my bike, yeah
Put that b***h back on the spot, give me the pistol before you c*** it
Let me throw a bullet in the clip for luck for us
Poor us, yeah, popping these, shocking, ain’t it mane?
Well, I guess nobody wants to be broke, right? Black or white
Paint the frame
‘Cause I’m only used to refusing the stereotypes of a name
I ain’t a name – I’m a soul, I’m a piece of gold
I’m a pro, I’m a piece of s**t too, too
What I gotta do if I gotta roll? Guess what?
I’mma roll all over you when I’m riding


[Verse 2:]
Used to watch my beeper chirp, new Dickies and a Black [?] shirt
My world was a little bitty spot in the universe outside of Earth
Tennessee loud, Alabama born, I came down in a meteor storm
Media wrong, media right, righting my wrong, lean to get long
Don’t come to get this, children go – this building is about to blow
I don’t know what I’mma do with this feeling inside of my mind and soul
I’m a one-in-a-million human show
Shoulda been the motherfucking Truman Show
But if you seen me getting raped as a child
You probably wouldn’t give me room to grow
Heavy blow, take a heavy sigh
Like a runner on the dailies, high oh my
You’ll be good, baby boy, don’t cry
I can make a boat with the broke up rhymes
God made me the Cherokee like no
I can’t let the world off the hook this time
And if you didn’t want this catfish s**t
In fact, you should’ve never shook that line
Readied that hook, took this time, to press play, then rewind
I would rather be drunk than be blind
To the space age pimp s**t that I combine
With what I know, rock and roll, I’m so famous, country fresh
That I can’t take one step in the fuckin’ street when I’m in public
So I get in this


Contributed by Elena R. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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