Yelawolf, Shawty Fatt, B.o.B - Run lyrics
Yelawolf [Michael Wayne Atha] Gadsden, Alabama/Antioch, Tennessee, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Yelawolf, Shawty Fatt, B.o.B - Run lyrics]
Conceptually I burn songs
Intellectually, the spirit of a
Runner born to storm, born to swarm
Even with Wu Tang's Raekwon
I shine with kings
Better put your Ray Bans on
If you open up my track I do my thing
And I do not mean to O-F-F-E-N to the D
But, if I put a mothafucker down
To the dirt with words
Then probably it's he
With a thought like "he could be
The degree of this master" smoke weed
Pop P's but you need to be much faster
Really I'm a hellafide frickin' rhymer
Your revolution will now be televised
Tell 'em how the devil tried but failed
Yeller rides beats and I never gave
A fuck about what sails
I give two tails on a donkey 'bout
Another rapper with so much money
I wanna see a mothafucka
Tie his shoes, bitch, come out runnin'
Run, run, run, run, run, run
Run run, run, run, run, run, run
I wanna see a mothafucka
Tie his shoes, bitch, come out runnin'
Run, run, run, run, run, run
Run run, run, run, run, run, run
I wanna see a mothafucka
Tie his shoes, bitch, come out runnin'
Ain't got no cards in the
Game so I'mma write lines, hype lines
Shit like this that make a
Bitch wanna bite mines, bite mines
He out his rabid mind, reppin' mines
Rapid fire spit fatt for sure it's fire on
The mic grabbin' my dick when I get sick
Call the medics no it's copasetics
Let me grab that bitch and watch me
Slide across this bitch like Eddie
Cain, runnin' from that man, ain't
No need of runnin', man
You want it with Bama, now
We on your police scanners, man
We be that A, A with a elephant trunk, hang
You a chump, you gon' get
Chunks tore out your anus, man
Name of the game is pain
Pain make 'em give up names
Who, what, what, there, where
Bang, nigga, bang, bang
Bang for the same game, bangin' the same dame
I don't love a ho
But, I gotta do her if you got that change
Got sick
Hopped up out the Chevy and cocked at range
Hit the block
Niggas and cops they lookin' like
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Ho everybody wait, everybody stop
Let me just catch my breath
Let me just get one belt, soon
As I get one belt
I promise I'mma take one sip
And I'mma try to spit this clear, for real
See cause on the track a nigga is fast
But y'all fags is laggin', I
Turn around like haha
I hold my abs and laugh
I just do it like Nike
Pimpin' you can check the tag
While you steady gaspin' for air
I'm runnin' laps on a nigga like this
When I run around a circle with
A little bit of twist
And they be like "here we go
Bob we're havin' a difficult
Time understanding your syllables
So, please, can you spit it slow
For all the folks that're really slow"
And man, I'm talkin' really slow
You feel me though?
Intellectually, the spirit of a
Runner born to storm, born to swarm
Even with Wu Tang's Raekwon
I shine with kings
Better put your Ray Bans on
If you open up my track I do my thing
And I do not mean to O-F-F-E-N to the D
But, if I put a mothafucker down
To the dirt with words
Then probably it's he
With a thought like "he could be
The degree of this master" smoke weed
Pop P's but you need to be much faster
Really I'm a hellafide frickin' rhymer
Your revolution will now be televised
Tell 'em how the devil tried but failed
Yeller rides beats and I never gave
A fuck about what sails
I give two tails on a donkey 'bout
Another rapper with so much money
I wanna see a mothafucka
Tie his shoes, bitch, come out runnin'
Run, run, run, run, run, run
Run run, run, run, run, run, run
I wanna see a mothafucka
Tie his shoes, bitch, come out runnin'
Run, run, run, run, run, run
Run run, run, run, run, run, run
I wanna see a mothafucka
Tie his shoes, bitch, come out runnin'
Ain't got no cards in the
Game so I'mma write lines, hype lines
Shit like this that make a
Bitch wanna bite mines, bite mines
He out his rabid mind, reppin' mines
Rapid fire spit fatt for sure it's fire on
The mic grabbin' my dick when I get sick
Call the medics no it's copasetics
Let me grab that bitch and watch me
Slide across this bitch like Eddie
Cain, runnin' from that man, ain't
No need of runnin', man
You want it with Bama, now
We on your police scanners, man
We be that A, A with a elephant trunk, hang
You a chump, you gon' get
Chunks tore out your anus, man
Name of the game is pain
Pain make 'em give up names
Who, what, what, there, where
Bang, nigga, bang, bang
Bang for the same game, bangin' the same dame
I don't love a ho
But, I gotta do her if you got that change
Got sick
Hopped up out the Chevy and cocked at range
Hit the block
Niggas and cops they lookin' like
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Ho everybody wait, everybody stop
Let me just catch my breath
Let me just get one belt, soon
As I get one belt
I promise I'mma take one sip
And I'mma try to spit this clear, for real
See cause on the track a nigga is fast
But y'all fags is laggin', I
Turn around like haha
I hold my abs and laugh
I just do it like Nike
Pimpin' you can check the tag
While you steady gaspin' for air
I'm runnin' laps on a nigga like this
When I run around a circle with
A little bit of twist
And they be like "here we go
Bob we're havin' a difficult
Time understanding your syllables
So, please, can you spit it slow
For all the folks that're really slow"
And man, I'm talkin' really slow
You feel me though?