Don't Run
Got these dudes who wanna stall me
Call me daddy or don't call me
F*ck Lacoste, Rock Givenchy
You can't stop me and my posse
Worthless come through wit finesse
Life been like a game of chess
Talkin sh*t, I hit your neck
Skriptin out here makin bread
B*tches lackin, they get smacked
I got kezu on the track
Yea, You know i keep the mac
You run up on me get attacked
In the coupe, hit my blunt
Sour Diesel, that sh*t stunk
Big ass gun inside the trunk
I ain't never smokin bunk
Aye, b*tch i'm really not the one
Sight that's at my body, Why the f*ck I need a gun?
I pull up slicing everything, I damage and I stun
I'm the f*ckin dirty b*stard killin fathers for they sons
I cry, I f*ck, I kill, I try
I rise, I rise, Sit still, Don't run
I'm the motherf*cker that you see whenever you hear shots
Yea you know i like to drop, every rasta on the block
(F*ck the Opps)
This just how I was brought up
Mess with kez you get shot up
AR15 what I'm packin
Opps won't ever catch me lackin
I been out here makin bucks
And i ain't never gave a f*ck
If that p*ssy mess with me
I might just shoot him in the gut
Boy I come wit that aggression
Yea they call me livin legend
Hit em wit the Mac 11
(I don't need no boys to step in)
Won't be saved by all your prayin
Suck my d*ck, think I'm playin?
If that boy gon play with me
I might just leave him on the pavement
(I said)
Leave that boy and loose (I said)
Maybe even empty out the chamber for two
But I'm still gon grip a gun
I got a clip that's full of sons
Who like to pop and shoot at b*tches til they're done
(Like you don't really)
Really get it, I'm the god of the dead
Grim reaper, Bringin all these f*ckin people to rest
That means I'm tuckin em' in, But I ain't tuckin a piece
I'll bring your soul to the damned, and now you'll never know peace
Call me daddy or don't call me
F*ck Lacoste, Rock Givenchy
You can't stop me and my posse
Worthless come through wit finesse
Life been like a game of chess
Talkin sh*t, I hit your neck
Skriptin out here makin bread
B*tches lackin, they get smacked
I got kezu on the track
Yea, You know i keep the mac
You run up on me get attacked
In the coupe, hit my blunt
Sour Diesel, that sh*t stunk
Big ass gun inside the trunk
I ain't never smokin bunk
Aye, b*tch i'm really not the one
Sight that's at my body, Why the f*ck I need a gun?
I pull up slicing everything, I damage and I stun
I'm the f*ckin dirty b*stard killin fathers for they sons
I cry, I f*ck, I kill, I try
I rise, I rise, Sit still, Don't run
I'm the motherf*cker that you see whenever you hear shots
Yea you know i like to drop, every rasta on the block
(F*ck the Opps)
This just how I was brought up
Mess with kez you get shot up
AR15 what I'm packin
Opps won't ever catch me lackin
I been out here makin bucks
And i ain't never gave a f*ck
If that p*ssy mess with me
I might just shoot him in the gut
Boy I come wit that aggression
Yea they call me livin legend
Hit em wit the Mac 11
(I don't need no boys to step in)
Won't be saved by all your prayin
Suck my d*ck, think I'm playin?
If that boy gon play with me
I might just leave him on the pavement
(I said)
Leave that boy and loose (I said)
Maybe even empty out the chamber for two
But I'm still gon grip a gun
I got a clip that's full of sons
Who like to pop and shoot at b*tches til they're done
(Like you don't really)
Really get it, I'm the god of the dead
Grim reaper, Bringin all these f*ckin people to rest
That means I'm tuckin em' in, But I ain't tuckin a piece
I'll bring your soul to the damned, and now you'll never know peace
Credits
Writer(s): Evan Towns
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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