Lyrics:
game well now i’m running track
You must be dumb cause karma hitting you right back
I turned my feelings down and never looking back
I told myself I’ll
preparation
A splendid time is guaranteed for all
And tonight Mr. Kite is topping the bill
"Go down early"
"Three, four"
"One, two, three, four"
felt so lost
Staring at the clock
Counting down the days
Before it goes away
I'm running out of time
I'm running out of time
I'm running out of time
out to be something
They chased him down into the valley
The gravity there seemed to fail him
He floated upwards into the setting sun
They all knew
Three... And I ponder where my stapler's gone
Four O'clock and I stare at the door ,And I stare at my watch, Then I stare at the door
I stand by my desk
all alone
My baby mama broke bad
That shit sad
You find out who really love you when you're off your shit
Down on my knees praying for better days
Got
bitch down to fuck So you know a nigga
Bout to fuck it up
For every moment that I spent down at the bottom
Ima have to run it up
Cashapp a hitter just
Tussaud's, they're running out the door
Bad boy McEnroe couldn't keep his cool
Now he's with the rest of 'em, wading in the pool
"Howard Hughes,
going down the highway
I guess it was around 3:30 in the morning
He could hardly see the road with tears in his eyes
He could barely see the sign that
Hey, say pimp,
This to everybody stretched out behind the wall,
Countin' days on their calendar,
Flippin' pages, month to month
Hey man, I don't
I been running down
Tryna get my sound right
All the fakes are calling now
Tryna get a dime out
They ain't help when I was down
Now they running
We gamble? No, what is the author looking for dig into core
At times we searching for that track that’s how we live these days
Too many ways to get
by myself cause niggas be lame
Niggas be mad cause I'm running my bag up
Got kicked out so I had to run my bands up
Got thick hoes talking bout a nigga
stepped forth and paid for my cigarettes
Crept out the stores front door to chase a little breath
Fangles in my head, shake the song off
Another manic
only peace and the love while
I'm bringing it loud
Staying level with my life, tryna' weed out my vice, putting down my device, I be seein' it Right
I
I'm sure
To get the answer that's locked up away behind your door
I'll stay away
I've been running my mouth and it's taking me south
Please take a day
room to see you
Through them doors made me believe I could make music too
I wouldn't call you a fool
Just keep yo problems out of anybody reach so they
Its late one day and I'm tired of the rain
Running down this filthy window-pane
The chatter is dull and the air is damp
I kinda like this place
I
a player, I just fuck a lot
But you know Big Pun and Joe are still down by law
Who's down to fuck tonight?
Hey yo, I'm still not a playa but you still
Motivated eating like a fat guy
Running to the money like a track guy
Reefa odor hit you when I pass by
Went to college I ain't go to class why
Hoes choosing
Soon as I go to grasp at the sheet, my voice says, no, you can't have him, he's mine
Moon Shine floats through tracks like a leech, might take out
Ayo shout out to this beat and the producer
Hold up the producer tag's right here
(Triple that Grayto)
Seven seven seven three three three
Nigga
swear that I fell in, so I tell them
I said it's 3D and J1, that's A-1, so please do not mistake, son
I been out on the New York Strips
Back when we made
or is a hot track now
Back down
When I was young and there was elders around I would have sat down
Now you pasty cats got a playlist, thinking you running
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