| I got a cousin that plays for the Utah Jazz
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| But I don’t have to run the two to shoot y’all ass
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| Peace to Ronnie Brewer, on the mic I’m the manure
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| Got a Ruger for the coward tryna hate on the computer
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| Mad because my power made him say that I’m the future
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| Or maybe cause I taught they baby mama Kama Sutra
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| Since then, I’m feelin' like I must be on parole
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| I told her I was Guilty, she put me in the hole
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| I put her on exhibit, then I put her on the stroll
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| She makes a bigger bankroll than bitches on the pole
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| I clap for the cause, I scrap for my dawgs
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| Imagine Mayweather with a Mac in his drawers! |
| (BRAT!)
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| A daily combo, I’m the Head Honcho
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| All about my doe, fuck casual convo
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| Unless you talkin' 'bout that bread, then you ain’t really talkin' fam
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| Nuff said
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| The future… the future… I’m… I’m… the future!
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| The future… I’m… I’m… I’m the future!
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| The future… I’m… I’m… I’m the future!
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| Unh, let the games begin
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| I’m from the OX, but don’t got bulbous chin (?)
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| Nah we hot, we somethin' like ash wind
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| Has-beens, quick to get peeled like, dead skin
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| If two clips of five want to act big
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| Washing ten off the mac, like Red Skins
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| Set trends, world wind
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| Rain, wind, and fire through mic wires, like X-men
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| Deep waters, still see the shark, fam
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| Tony Gywnn with the pen, not the park (?), nigga
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| Get used to the name, cause we ain’t goin' nowhere like, Cranberry stains
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| Strawberry on my Blackberry page, bad with names cause of Raspberry haze
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| Street medley, so the thugs engage, and go heavy
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| That’s plain that the future’s ready
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| Let me back at 'em… yo
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| I rap for the rugged hard heads that stack funds
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| I don’t recommend it, but I choose to pack guns
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| In case my foes make good on the promise
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| To put me in the ground, I ain’t always do it honest
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| El presidente, killers on the congress
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| You’re mere mortals, the flow’s monstrous
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| Get bound and gagged and beat unconscious
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| Shank in the mess hall, murderin' all convicts
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| My bloody hand solves all conflicts
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| Why talk, we can settle on some mob shit
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| Your swan dive when shit gets deep
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| At the bottom of the creek wearin' cement feet
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| What! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Run, artist - Guilty Simpson. Album song Ode To The Ghetto, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп