Throw’d Out

[Verse 1: Rydah J. Klyde]
Yo, I'm stumblin' from the bar with two bottles
Walk with a lean so I'm crushin' two models
They do swallow, I lead, they follow
I could see I ain't the only one in here with my wallow
My number's cuatro cinco with hollows
I live for today 'cause I ain't promised tomorrow
I do it like a rock star, in the drop but the top's hard
Get drunk, fall out, drive fast, block car
Kicked out the Sir Francis, top floor
Smokin' weed with a herd of dancers with no balls, playboy
Like Hugh Hef', I'm too fresh
Mob stylin' like Joe Pesc' with a little man complex
Come dressed in minks, my whores is draggin' on the floor
I'm stealin' drinks, light my trees, they tryna kick me out the door
That's when I boss up, few racks in bar money I toss up
I shoulda pulled my nine like Shyne, well, next time

[Verse 2: Husalah]
Yo, one to the two, two to the three
It's the super silky fresh dope dealer MC
The Husalah, Husalah, Huh-huh-huh-Husalah
Security niggas, they tryna rush us
It ain't fair now, I just let my hair down and all the hoes jockin'
Now they wanna kick us out the spot when
All I really wanna do is touch your body
'Cause everybody knows it's the Husalah party
Fuck it, I'll the hoes and have a private party
Crowd private, top floor with Husalah Lossie
Illa Rock killa, cold crush, young Hus'
What the fuck? Nigga, back up and get touched
Pimp walkin' out the buildin' with my hand on my nuts
Exit stage left, all the fly hoes rush
Now they in my load, reachin' all in my window
My cousin J. Klyde got us scorin' some indo
Then we up out, baby, hold your horses
You're ridin' with the champ, take it slow, don't force it
Before she ever met me, she kissed my portrait
She asked why I never really rock at Fortress
I'm a dope game nigga, hop, snow caine nigga, rock
Dope gangs in the block recognize Husalah
Blast TECs, rarely do I have sex
So you's a lucky ho, but I doubt if you'll fuck me though
While I drive, you could suck me, ho
Watch your teeth when I yoke, goddamn I'm dope, yeah

[Chorus: Mac Dre, Rydah J. Klyde]
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
(Gettin' dumb in the spot, mayne)
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
(Gettin' dumb in the spot, mayne)

[Verse 3: Rydah J. Klyde]
Yeah, we top floor, my cuddie next door
X.O., already raw for the Gucci, Prada whores
That smoke zags, I seen 'em pull 'em out a Coach bag
I coulda short before she rolled that, know what I passed her
Let's see if she could twist; stopped short, guy paid a visit
Put the weed out, light an incense
Bitch, you gon' ask him, "Who is it?"
You see a badge, tell him you'll be there in a minute
If not, anybody else, your ass, they can kiss it
The trees, no one missed it
Even though we smokin', still twistin'
And showin' out, blowin' a cloud
And we hella loud, fuck it, they'll be throwin' us out

[Chorus: Mac Dre, Rydah J. Klyde]
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
(Gettin' dumb in the spot, mayne)
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
They throw'd us right on out, they throw'd us right on out
(Gettin' dumb in the spot, mayne)