Athlete (feat. Kasher Quon)
(Runnit...)
Hold up
(You are watching a master at work)
Aye Aye
Niggas can't be talkin too me
Aye Run That Shit Swizzy
Talkin too me
Niggas can't be talkin too me
Niggas can't be talkin too me
I leave his ass R.I.P
SRT skirt on yo block make it screech
You can't get saved by no bell you ain't Screech
We got them guns
You can't outrun
We ain't trinna run shit
This ain't no track meet
I ain't no tourist, won't catch me on South Beach
SRT run on yo block it's a athlete
Amiri my shoes these are not cheap
FN on me all black just like Tyrese
I turned his ass into a Ghost just like Tariq
"This nigga ain't on that, He ain't even street"
Make some young stones bang-bang yo ass like Chief Keef
Why you talking on the internet
We know where you sleep
Choppa coming out anytime
Rain, Snow, or Sleet
Got a bitch with a blonde bob kill you in your sleep
Holes in yo ass like you Spongebob
Bouta bark around this bitch cause I'm a big dog
Nigga you a weenie with some bread you a corndog
All that BS you drop I need a Tylenol
That mean every track you drop make my head hurt
We ain't fuckin on my bed cause this bitch squirt
She throw that pussy back on me on my Off White shirt
When i shoot this damn gun I'm on one leg like Dirk
Just popped 3 percs in the booth my head hurting
Fuckin this bitch for a hour her legs hurt
Went two hours of the RP's
My cousin on the road with footballs no Drew Brees
I got all hundred dollar bills Good blue cheese
And I just scored a pint of wock I got two P's
But ain't none of it for sale
Red bottoms on like I just stepped on a nail
He ain't got no weed his bum ass trinna steal my tails
Told that bitch "Let me feel yo ass, it ain't gone feel itself"
You ain't got no money in your pockets might as well kill yourself
Before I let the opps kill me I'll kill myself
(Runnit)
Hold up
(You are watching a master at work)
Aye Aye
Niggas can't be talkin too me
Aye Run That Shit Swizzy
Talkin too me
Niggas can't be talkin too me
Niggas can't be talkin too me
I leave his ass R.I.P
SRT skirt on yo block make it screech
You can't get saved by no bell you ain't Screech
We got them guns
You can't outrun
We ain't trinna run shit
This ain't no track meet
I ain't no tourist, won't catch me on South Beach
SRT run on yo block it's a athlete
Amiri my shoes these are not cheap
FN on me all black just like Tyrese
I turned his ass into a Ghost just like Tariq
"This nigga ain't on that, He ain't even street"
Make some young stones bang-bang yo ass like Chief Keef
Why you talking on the internet
We know where you sleep
Choppa coming out anytime
Rain, Snow, or Sleet
Got a bitch with a blonde bob kill you in your sleep
Holes in yo ass like you Spongebob
Bouta bark around this bitch cause I'm a big dog
Nigga you a weenie with some bread you a corndog
All that BS you drop I need a Tylenol
That mean every track you drop make my head hurt
We ain't fuckin on my bed cause this bitch squirt
She throw that pussy back on me on my Off White shirt
When i shoot this damn gun I'm on one leg like Dirk
Just popped 3 percs in the booth my head hurting
Fuckin this bitch for a hour her legs hurt
Went two hours of the RP's
My cousin on the road with footballs no Drew Brees
I got all hundred dollar bills Good blue cheese
And I just scored a pint of wock I got two P's
But ain't none of it for sale
Red bottoms on like I just stepped on a nail
He ain't got no weed his bum ass trinna steal my tails
Told that bitch "Let me feel yo ass, it ain't gone feel itself"
You ain't got no money in your pockets might as well kill yourself
Before I let the opps kill me I'll kill myself
(Runnit)
Credits
Writer(s): Brian Loriston
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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