Movin’ On Out The Door Lyrics – Max B
Singer: Max B
Title: Movin’ On Out The Door
Uh, chyeah
Ooooo, baby, baby
Ladadadada la-dooh
f#ck witcha boy
What’s good baby
It’s that OFOA, we still here
Let’s talk to em, we had to get you on this baby
Uh, chyeah
Get the f#ck from ’round me
If you not tryna ride my wave, I had to know
How the f#ck they found me?
Competition get hit with the K, Imma let it blow
How the f#ck could you doubt me?
If you not tryna make it rain, Imma let it snow
Movin’ not enough, movin’ on out the door-oor
Chyeah, ya chances are slim
Any questions asked you better answer to them
Tap dance on your friend with no shoes
Choose, do what you like
And I don’t like to follow rules
Got a hallow tool that’ll follow you
b#tches look me dead in the eye
And say “I wanna swallow you”, drink it up
n#gg# I ain’t make it up, homie got shot in his dome
I even tried to wake’em up, bouto take him up on his offer
White b#tch look like Jody Foster, the all white saucer
Costs us nothing to get it up
Trade in ya Civic, get another truck
You won’t get another f#ck
I can guarantee thee victory, picture me losin’ a c#nt
This muhf#cka history, get him what he need
Couple gorgeous white tape [?]
He used to have a nice van, damn!
Get the f#ck from ’round me
If you not tryna ride my wave, I had to know
How the f#ck they found me
Competition get hit with the K, Imma let it blow
How the f#ck could you doubt me
If you not tryna make it rain, Imma let it snow
Movin’ not enough, movin’ on out the door-oor
(Hollywood, ayyy!)
Every now and then I feel like giving up
But until then Imma see how to live it up
b#tches wanna give it up, just off a Jee-P
You ancient Indian, so we f#cked in a tipi
All eyez on Max, you would think he was T.P
Plus it’s [?] game that connect with T.P
Plus Hollywood Fergie here but don’t mind me
I’m a glitch in the matrix, but you won’t find me
Allegedly, last scene, he was up with Gain Greene
Call me Fergie Lovebug, cuz my pimp game mean
Must admit that imma fiend, only question that I ask
How the hell you get that #ss in them skin-tight jeans
You ‘mind me of Billie Jean, you are not my lover
‘Member when I called you Mami, but you not my mother
Pardon me the Sour Diesel got me geekin’, zoning
Won’t stop until I get that p#ss# open, OWWW!
Get the f#ck from ’round me
If you not tryna ride my wave, I had to know
How the f#ck they found me?
Competition get hit with the K, Imma let it blow
How the f#ck could you doubt me?
If you not tryna make it rain, Imma let it snow
Movin’ not enough, movin’ on out the door-oor
Get the f#ck from ’round me
Get the f#ck from ’round me
If you not tryna ride my wave, I had to know
How the f#ck they found me?
Competition get hit with the K, Imma let it blow
How the f#ck could you doubt me?
If you not tryna make it rain, Imma let it snow
Movin’ not enough, movin’ on out the door-oor
Get the f#ck from ’round me
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Lyrics Max B – Movin’ On Out The Door
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