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Ludacris - Get Out The Way lyrics

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Get Out The Way by Ludacris

(feat. I-20, Mystikal)
[Chorus 2x: Ludacris]
Move b**ch, get out the way
Get out the way b**ch, get out the way
Move b**ch, get out the way
Get out the way b**ch, get out the way
OH NO! The fight's out
I'ma 'bout to punch yo...lights out
Get the f**k back, guard ya grill
There's somethin' wrong, we can't stay still
I've been drankin' and bustin' two
and I been thankin' of bustin' you
Upside ya motherf**kin' forehead
And if your friends jump in, "Ohhh right", they'll be mo' dead
Causin' confusion, Disturbin Tha Peace
Since not into lution', we run in the streets
So bye-bye to all you groupies and golddiggers
Is there a bumper on your ass? NO NIGGA!
I'm doin' a hundred on the highway
So if you do the speed limit, get the f**k outta my way
I'm D.U.I., hardly ever caught sober
and you about to get ran the f**k over
[Mystikal over second chorus]
b**ch! Watch out, watch out, watch out
b**ch! Watch out, watch out, watch out, move
Here I come, there I go
UH OH! Don't jump b**ch, move
You see them headlights? You hear that f**kin' crowd?
Start that goddamn show, I'm comin' through
Hit the stage and knock the curtains down
I f**k the crowd up - that's what I do
Young and successful - a sex symbol
The b**ches want me to f**k - true true
Hold up wait up, shorty
"Oh wazzzupp, get my dick sucked, what are yoouu doin'?"
besides minding my f**kin' bussiness
Tryin' to get my payment for child support soon
Give me that truck and take that rental back
Who bought these f**kin' T.V.'s and jewelry b**ch, tell me that?
No, I ain't bitter, I don't give a f**k
But i'ma tell you like this b**ch
You better not walk in front of my tour bus
[I-20 over second chorus]
Bring it, get 'em
Too bad I'm on the right track
Beef, got the right mack
Hit the trunk, grab the pump pump, I'll be right back
We buyin' bars out, showin' scars out
We heard there's hoes out, so we brought the cars out
Grab the peels cuz we robbin' tonight
Beat the sh*t outta security, for stoppin the fight
I got a fifth of the remy, f**k the Belve and 'cris
I'm sellin' sh*t up in the club like I work in the b**ch
f**k the dress codes, it's street clothes, we all street niggaz
We on the dance floor, throwin' bows, beatin' up niggaz
I'm from the D.E.C., tryin' to disrespect D.T.P.
And watch the bottles start flyin' from the V.I.P.
f**k this rap sh*t, we clap b**ch, two in your body
Grab ya four, start a fight dog, ruin the party
So move b**ch, get out the way hoe
All you faggot motherf**kers make way for 2-0

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