Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Run Up On Ya, artist - Joey Bada$$. Album song B4.DA.$$, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.03.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cinematic, Pro Era
Song language: English
Run Up On Ya |
Yeah, run up on ya bitch like |
Probably run up on ya bitch like |
Lord, can I get a bad bitch? |
High class whip, be above the average |
Headed north west, that two seater Kardashian |
Type to give me brain up in the red light traffic |
And keep ya head up, that 2Pac blasting |
Face two stacks and then be back into this action |
No time to relax, I need someone to count this cash with |
That match with, give me what I’m askin' |
The lady in the streets appear beast on that mattress |
That’s it, you’re the only one I’m trying to mack with |
But you could be a liability or fat (ass)et |
How real is that ass miss? |
Bend that shit backwards |
Hit one backwood, crack the pussy like a password |
Bet that pussy’s last word is master |
Ask her, roll my rocker til I made that astronaut |
That’s NASA thought, be that young fly, nasty one |
Swallow the seeds, please, but you can’t catch me slipping, hon |
So let’s just ride away |
We could die today |
Got no time to waste |
So just roll with me, baby |
Ride or die |
Always by your side |
Until the end of time |
Driving me crazy |
First thing’s first, I, Joey |
Freaks all the honeys, mommies, the playboy bunnies |
The hoes love me, get down before the money |
Just know shit could get ugly, but whether it rain or sunny |
Just never worry, chinchillas in February |
Vanilla, that’s when you ready |
Check the itinerary whenever it’s necessary |
Keep my baby straight, peep my lady lace |
The Margiela to Doneva |
Fool less it’s planned and everything is in control |
So hit the gas and let’s go |
It’s no sleep til Brooklyn, another beastie boy |
And she just can’t stop looking, she like it raw |
Real spitter and all and that’s the word of mouth |
And let her sit in the jaw |
I’m so nasty, please just walk past me |
So tempted to grab it, I gotta have it |
We could be living lavish so tell me, girl, right away |
We could hit the bank then escape to the hideaway |
Is you riding, riding with me? |
Is you riding? |
Is you riding, riding with me? |
Is you riding? |
Getting head in the whip and not crashing it |
FILA Velour shorts set, half Arabic |
I sit in dove room with candle lit |
Tell little mama handle it |
Or you could leave the sandals on and pull your skirt up |
I really remember reading Word Up |
Tiger Beat, see me on the cover soon, fold out posters |
Hanging on your shorties wall |
I still be fucking women half my age when I’m 44 |
Young skin, a winning personality |
Hard dick, million dollar salary |
These cheating refs calling fouls on me |
Break the fucking whistle off in his ass, now hit the road, Jack |
Hop off the bozack, the .44 clap |
You’ll need low jack to define your whole back |
Euros’ll get down, you know that |
Swimming trunks and throwback |
Yeah, you know that |