Search results for 'High Elms Runners On Sundays'

I’m running the street from Monday to Sunday
Making money is my thing And there’s no Holiday
You a street runner when you make a  Fine pay
Don’t stop

a runners high 
I’m not worried bout the finish line, 
Enjoy the burn while I’m still alive.  
Take deep breaths, one at a time,
Running through another

November swirls across the lawn 
Dogs in a-tangle, spray of cinnamon
Red quicksilver sundrops of saffron
Rain from the tumbled high heaving heavens

Bust No Moves

El-P

Bust No Moves

2015

talking Any Given Sunday, Willie Beamen ho
My bitch say that I get too high it might kill my brain
I tell her that she talk too much and she should give

and brunch on Sundays love to eat
She know she elite so no nigga she need
She got a slick mouth just cuz she love to read
Like take bubble baths snap chat her

Hit Da Record Button and Talk To Me
My podcast every Sunday at 3
Turn on Campbell Circle park on side of the road at 303
Turn the music down low cuz

Bank stank role
Hit and run do it my way
Litty on the weekend
Cara zone on a sunday
Fun fact, big mac
Coming down the high way
Smoke signals
All green,

Cross Country Runners Never Die
And I'm here to tell you Why
Maybe because we hustled To survive
We Never fit in with the Cool kids
No matter how

on my wrist
Bitch, I'm a dick
Never wrestle with you niggas
I just let the bullets hit
Bet it be a cold summer
Turn hoes into runners
When I fucking

my Johnson
She dey give me things wey make me feel the high
She give me exotic
She give me ecstasy
Next morning she wan go Sunday service
Only you,

was chilling in the o with spinbin and Leon
Neck wrist ice cold froze yeah that's freon
First Sunday fresh mane but nah I ain't lejohn
Baby ima dog I

sleep, I need some bread
Bagging just like Santa high like a sled (Ayy)

We coming
Add it
We ran it up 
You runner up 
We got money 
We got hoes, good gas

I be fly as an eagle, I be high as a bird I'm high like a motherfucking pilot

Dripped on a sunday in my shoes, Christian
I be damn if I spend  a bag

sixty-two 

Hiding under my bed
On Potosi Avenue
They're coming and they're drumming 
They're the Junkanoo

I used to make my kites
And fly them high in

Time Travel

Dead Prez

Information Age

2012

a marathoner, Sunday hotter than Arizona
Time travel anywhere I wanna
I’m a long distance runner

I just wanna time travel, to know what I don't know
I just

bankroll beating the pavement
My niggas goin' step flock and forty like freddy and jason
I love money I'm chasing I trap monday through sunday ain't never

Somedays: on a runners high defied by couch potatoes lying
Hate on me, can't find my labels
Sated when I'm satan, raiders paid in fables
Naysay swayed in

is wannabes
You finished a runner up
I just finished on her teeth
I should have a box logo, 'cause my swag is so Supreme (CashOutJony)
Imma make

runner, plus a dad of two boys
The transporter back and forth to school and all of that
A nerve bundled in a ball of wax, but I'll adapt
Acknowledge that

and roll can turn a puddle to a tidal wave
Goodbye ain't somethin' friends heard you say
Leaves things open in high hopes we'll meet again some other sunny

love was high risk
Stupid Cupid you might have to meet my fist
I remember meeting you like it was the other day
Looking like an angel dressed like

that in my pocket
Company registration need to sign another docket
And the estimates are high that’s why I need to get a rocket
Ha call up Elon Musk help