Yella Beezy

Run To The Money
Yeah Shun On Da Beat Big chain, sippin' fours Cuban link, they're drippin' gold Ballin' all off a ho I'm a dog, yeah, I know Got it all out the bowl One in the head, yeah, locked and loaded Choppin' raw on the stove Your bitch gon' call for that pole Don't make me walk down your bros And lil' bitch stalking, yeah, for sure You might think I'm crazy now Well business up, ain't like before I'm in love with my .40, I gun at a nigga throat I'ma run to that money Ayy, Cuban link with the piece and chain Your nigga hatin' then he's a lame Don't fuck without her, she's some game Heard he throwin' salt, then he need some game No shit about leeching, man Y'all keep talking, last nigga reaching, man Used to ride like some priests, man Now I'm hopping out of Wagens, G's and things SongtexteBitch, I'm a hustler, yeah, I got the funds Fuck all that fussing, bitch, I got the gun You pussy, be capping, be popping your gums You want all the smoke, well I pop at your lungs I'm too trigger happy, be popping for fun Yeah, for the bands, I'm still popping them drums Ran up that sack, went and got me a fund So happy I got a bitch and got insurance I might make your bitch cheese a little Chopper start nuttin' if I squeeze a little Hollow tips, I Swiss cheese a nigga Why you cuff the ho if she easy, nigga? Cool out, be easy, nigga 'Fore I make her run to C Breezy, nigga I never fucked around with sleazy niggas I just fucked the ho because she pleased a nigga Big chain, sippin' fours Cuban link, they're drippin' gold Ballin' all off a ho I'm a dog, yeah, I know Got it all out the bowl One in the head, yeah, locked and loaded Choppin' raw on the stove Your bitch gon' call for that pole Don't make me walk down your bros And lil' bitch stalking, yeah, for sure You might think I'm crazy now Well business up, ain't like before I'm in love with my .40, I gun at a nigga throat I'ma run to that money Hey, hold up, wait up a minute, cuz They playing games but I been the plug Deliver that sack, call me Jimmy Johns Rocks chopped up big as Cinnabons Call my lil' niggas to get it done 'Cause we got them birds like Timmy on Ask around, bitch, I been a don Fucked that ho and I ain't strap a jimmy on, hey Strapped up with the semi drum Beat that pussy up until that kitty moan Skrrt, ah skrrt, make that hemi yawn That nigga crashed out, yeah, get him gone Yella, you really wanna get him gone? Nigga call shots, yeah, I get shit done Chase that sack, money itch my palm Might fuck your ho, lil' bitch don't run Little bitch, you pretty, huh? And met a boss nigga, oh really, huh? With that lame nigga, oh really, ma? Come to my pad, you can get it, ma Hey, 'bout cheese, no Philly, ma My city call me the Yella P Diddy, ma Go'n, tell me what's the damn dealy, ma Not from Nebraska, but I'm illy, ma, hah Big chain, sippin' fours Cuban link, they're drippin' gold Ballin' all off a ho I'm a dog, yeah, I know Got it all out the bowl One in the head, yeah, locked and loaded Choppin' raw on the stove Your bitch gon' call for that pole Don't make me walk down your bros And lil' bitch stalking, yeah, for sure You might think I'm crazy now Well business up, ain't like before I'm in love with my .40, I gun at a nigga throat I'ma run to that money Yeah Yeah Yeah Aus Songtexte Mania