Lyrics:
a gang
Boy, what you claim?
Throw up your gang
Switching four lanes
And our whip not the same
Low down, dirty
Put you to shame
What is her name?
takin' subliminal
Cause they can't get what I got's
They want it so bad, four million dollar pad
And enough to retire off two albums, gone, wave ya' white
WRITTEN, RECORDED AND PERFOMED BY FAWN PIPER (G.O.D GIRLS ON DRUGS)
ALBUM: DAYZ B4 DA FUNK
INTRO
YO GUYS,CHECK THIS OUT ,THIS IS, REAL LIFE.
JIGSAW
push me, ay, I got that bitch by the bushes
Chasin' that bag like the Roadrunner I use to trap in a 4Runner
I ran it up for like 4 summers Got the O
Tell your broke-ass menace come get me gone, we gon' bust him off
Drop tape by tape and don't promote at all, that's just my runner up
I know that he
a couple of shots
Of patron patron patron
12 play album is the bomb, play that #1
That's my song my song my song
Now one shot is what I like
Two shots gone
something and I got it covered
Somehow always rise above it
Why you think I got my head in the clouds on my last album cover?
The game is all mine and I'm
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four
Hey! What are you doing? What's goin' on?
Woody: Sorry.)
Synthesizer rock ruled Jessica's feet
As a slave to that ubiquitous beat
Visions
a sack
I pull up, jump out the back
Bad bitch and her ass fat
Four door coupe, it got a hatch
On the Xans, I might crash that
Car got gadgets, my
want no problem
I run with the runners yeah
I run with the runners ooh
I run with the runners yeah
I run with the runners run
I slur with the speech It
Distant life, never before seen
Deep sleep in deep sea. Nerves are torn from their ends
It has been three nights and still the puzzle is cut by a shaky
Fuck wrong with these ho niggas?
Don't do coke, I don't blow niggas
I don't tell niggas, I show niggas
And it's never less than like four niggas
Four
that yoppa by the bed nigga french toast
Black Phantom out front nigga space ghost
Word on the street you looking for 4 and a heezy
Just pull up in
DJ Khaled, we the best
Who, we nigga
We the best
The Runners, I represent the ghetto across the world
And you represent the hood, two hands in
Ayo, I break bread, ribs, hundred dollar bills
Peel on Ducatis and other four wheels
Write a book full of medicine and generate mills
Tour the album
a fuck, say you could run that shit back
And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat
Cherry Bomb, the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound
at
I see irrelevance condoned by the delegates
Their regression is evident they own
What I been off
Fuck it since it's the samaritan's I sold
I'ma
Or steady being distracted by money drugs and four
Fives, I count lives all on these songs
Look at the weak and cry, pray one day you'll be strong
Fighting
start tellin' you can
Catch 'em on the couch everyday at 4 o'clock,
Like Ellen!
Prime-time nigga, it's my time nigga,
Jacob ain't got shit to do with
It's 4am bitch check the clock
And fuck the feds on talk ion talk we do drive bys then we walk now he chalk
Took his brain off he forgot he gon rot It's
bankroll, my money, my money, my money
Cash flow, I need it on time
I'm talking bankroll, my money, my money, my money
Hey, we go by The Runners... Just
To the top wit my niggas
Pop wit my niggas
Drive by in whips, rock rocks wit my niggas
Break day on the hottest block wit my niggas
Just cause I
[DMX]
to stay on top my game there ain't no time to lose
Four albums deep as a quester but still we payin' dues
So hear me out one time, you gots to be yourself
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