Lyrics:
i'ma up the glizzy, its crazy but my city really wicked (let's go)
Stayed down we made it threw the rain told my niggas ii won't change
Know we really
wacker than the motherfucker you bit your style from
You ain't gonna sell two copies if you press a double album
Admit it, fuck it, while we comin' out
High times by the riv
With the kid
Kickin' it
Puffy Amy, a yume I'm high high
Speed racer no tapper I fly by
Don't say yes to the Captain It's Aye
she started stalking
Pop all the perky, yeah a halftime
Little mamma pussy soaking, yeah it's bath time
I put a nine inside a two liter
I'ma send
the days? Run in your house like a raid (huh?)
Young nigga tryna get paid (paid)
Pistol to his face, give him a shave (baow, baow)
Never selfish, all
think I was wasted
And I stay with a pint, nigga, fuck getting faded (lean)
Migo the gang, and we having artillery
Pistol-grip pump and that bitch kick
as long as you grease it first... very sore if you don't.
Now! The first two tracks, as we've said, Running Free and Sanctuary, were recorded at Long Beach.
the streets as living epistle
Ready to hit you
With the truth from the Bible
Like a pistol.
Without a gun
Yo we run with the Son
Three personalities in
really had to break it down
I really had to keep it simple
I had to run up and down the court watching y'all like the league official
I never had
let 'em run
Imma catch dog here I come
Got em coach we play makers over here
We underground we always get it from the mud you crystal clear
Don't get it
of my sweatshirt
Bone 2 the bone 2 the bad 2 the bad 2 the bone
Hit bound from the Mo-town allen
Fuck a 40 I drink it by the gallon
I started out
grind
Then she tried to call a nigga phone two times
But I ain't worried bout it cause a nigga got two lines two lines
Aye aye two times
Get a pack
they talkin' shit we
Empty out our clips get a grip
Like your bitch's hand up around my dick
With a blunt in between my lips
Skunk up in a zip run it
Handicap, handicap, handicap, handicap
Run up on me and I'mma leave you handicapped
Handicap, handicap, handicap, handicap
I keep a pistol by me, I've got
Trap house got the twelve gage right by the door
You niggas ain’t bout it we gone smoke you bitch don’t play with bows
Got girls with me they trap
finna run away
Choppa hit 'em, he doin' the running man
Skrrt off in a black whip, Joan Jett
We made a movie, it's all on cassette
My pistol digital, dump
a pistol, chase the border, head to Mexico
So why run?
Life is what you make it, you can't escape it
So why run? (Why run? So why run? Why run)
You
them, run them jewels fast
Run them, run them, r-run them, r-run them, run them, r-run them
A wise man once said, ("We all dead, fuck it")
Just spit
down yeah
Ok now look wha we found
Na na na he ain't making no sound
Naw I'm gone kill him right now
Cuz I bring it in by the pound yeah
I'm poppin I'm
the mainstream?
Meek Mill leans forward into the
Glow of his computer screen
His expression unreadable behind a
Pair of gold sunglasses
It's April, well after two
skin's top
We sent pops, catch you from two blocks
Don't run up on you chargin, with hot shit, he felt it, alarmin
Shockin, surprisin shit, left you
Or stunt her ass off when it's time for the limelight
If I slide her top back, niggas will start to freeze
And she's flexible and we'll get on all fours with
the chamber
I can see you run
Nigga I flip my advance before
I ran through it
'cause that money turn haters
Into that barmen fluid
My dope be a 8, from a 1
Scuffed me up, and through me all around it was a bad look
I grew from it, look around like who want It?
If you got a problem, we can solve it, what you
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