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Baretta/Rush Out* Lyrics by Kyle Richh

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[Intro: Dee Billz]
(Get to the money)
(Hahaha, it's Shomii on the beat, you already know how we rockin', man)
Grrah, grrah, grrah
Said I'm on the—
Like
Like
Said I'm on the block—
[Verse 1: Dee Billz & Kyle Richh]
Like, grrah
Sendin' shots, then we send it back (Send it back)
On that block tryna catch me a bask (Catch me a bask)
[?] catch one I'm [?] ([?]K)
Ewok-K and it's not for the facts (OYK)
Niggas shoot they forgettin' the aim (Like, grrah)
Hittin' civilians, shit is lame (Shit is lame)
Like firin' the G, double beat on his gang (Firin', double beat)
And for them, I'm goin' insane (Grrah-grrah-grrah)
Like why niggas dissin' my block?
Like, lil' Jeff caught a head pop (Jeffy)
Like, lil' Fresh got bеat 'til he drop (Freshy)
Niggas get shot tryna spin my— (Grrah-grrah-grrah-grrah)
Likе, niggas get shot tryna spin my strip
Immediate throw if I spot me a Blixk (Immediate, like, grrah)
And for my fallen, I'm uppin' the fifth (Grrah)
Like, nigga don't run, don't— (Grrah)
[Verse 2: Kyle Richh]
Smokin' Dotty that's really the float (Dotty)
If I catch a body, I'm goin' up top (Up top)
Grrah, I might slide with a cut
Like ride and slide with a couple of— (Couple of knocks)
Ride and slide with a couple of knocks (Like, damn)
Fuck Mel he got put in my wood (Mel-Mel)
He can't breathe, all he feel is the blood
Think shit sweet? He got shot with his mud (Got shot with his mans)
G2C can't fit, why the fuck it can't fit in my sling? (Can't fit)
Fresh got beat, lookin' for wings
Catch him again and we givin' him wings (Freshy)
Listen, I ain't heavy on dissin' but niggas keep mentionin' 41 name
Two two two two, twelve on his gang, 4100 I cannot change (Ahh)
[Verse 3: Jay Gelato]
Like, I just rolled in a Panda (In a Panda)
Like, tell lil' boy, "Pick his gang up" (Pick his gang up)
Late night, bro tryna spin out of anger (Go, go)
Bitch, I keep the boy down like an anchor (Like an anchor)
If we slide through his block then we stretch him, elastic (Elastic)
All black, three deep on that block, make it tragic (Go, go)
With the Jet, two chops and it might get—
With the Jet, two chops and it might get drastic (Huh, huh)
Tired of talkin' on niggas, someone gotta go (Someone gotta go)
G5 blow put the dot on his throat (On his throat)
Brodie keep on clickin', don't let him get low (Don't let him get low)
Throwin' sitch', fuck it, I'm gettin' this basket (Gettin' this basket)
Nigga think he tough, then we bend him like plastic (Go, go)
Pack him, why is that lil' nigga lackin'? (Lackin')
Flock him, bullets connect like he Madden (Madden)
[Verse 4: Iffy Foreign]
Grrah, no he better not squeal when we— (No he not)
No, he better not squeal when we catch him (Bitch)
On the bros, I'ma throw more than seven
When I'm Eli, he clutchin' like he [?] (Clutchin' like he [?])
Like, we the ones causin' the turf
When the Dz on my bop, pushin' we won't let 'em (Like, like damn)
Too much money to beef with a broke opp (Like, grrah)
He over there? I'm flockin' up on both sides (Grrah)
Like, Fazo get the Beretta (Fazo)
Get vexed, start wearin' their sets up (Sets)
Always smoke so we givin' the pressure (Grrah)
Oh she wanna fuck on brodie? I won't let her (Damn)
I won't ever go fuck on y'all bitches (Never)
Y'all bitches be linin' niggas for the setup (Like, damn)
OYK, [?] (OYK)
They talkin' that shit but wait 'til I address 'em (Notti)
Me and Dee be slidin' on a Revel
Tryna see who we can catch in that lobby ([?])
Clickin' on any nigga movin' wocky (Grrah-grrah)
41 shots to the top is behind me
R.I.P, take me out in my body (R.I.P)
I just might bug out if I'm off the Wocky' (Wock)
I gotta chill, like why you tryna stop me? (Like, what?)
Look it's a party if I got my Glockie (Grrah-grrah-grrah)
[Verse 5: Jay Gelato]
Get him close, flock him down for a fee (Flock him down)
[?], twenty deep, while I sock him to sleep (Grrah-grrah-grrah)
On that block, [?] runnin' on E
Posted up with some Hounds, know they itchin' to feast (Like, grrah)
Up top on the fein, I ain't peep
He was lookin' for Dee, almost caught me a Pete (Like, what?)
500, that shit double B
Notti, Dotty, two shots a week (Like, grrah)
[Outro: Jay Gelato]
Like, flock
Like, brodie went—
Like, grrah-grrah
Like, grrah
Like, like, like hol' on
Credits

About “Baretta/Rush Out*” by Kyle Richh

Read the complete lyrics to "Baretta/Rush Out*" by Kyle Richh. On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Rap.

"Baretta/Rush Out*" is performed by Kyle Richh. This page provides the full lyric text for fans who want to sing along, study the songwriting, or compare versions across releases. Lyrks organizes lyrics by artist and song slug so you can bookmark and share a stable URL. Music lyrics help listeners connect with emotion, narrative, and rhythm in a track. Whether you are learning English, researching a favorite chorus, or preparing for karaoke, having accurate line breaks and section labels (verse, chorus, bridge) makes the experience easier. We link to the official artist profile on Lyrks where available, including biography snippets, top songs, and chart placements when we have that data. If you enjoy "Baretta/Rush Out*", explore more songs by Kyle Richh using the links below. Chart and trending pages on Lyrks highlight what listeners are searching for this week. For copyright or correction requests, see our DMCA and contact pages.

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"Baretta/Rush Out*" is credited to Kyle Richh. Songwriting credits may include additional writers listed on the release; check the credits section on this page for linked collaborators.

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