Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Red Rum, artist - Northstar. Date of issue: 19.01.2004
Song language: English
Red Rum |
| Ya know say Mikey there 'pon dem case, Northstar |
| Ah, family, ya done know, ah |
| For real, we ready for them, we nah ramp |
| Ah, ah. |
| Red rum, red rum, dem all have fi run |
| You don’t want no war, boy, don’t make me must me gun |
| Red rum, red rum, dem all have fi run |
| If a war to watch you know dem all have fi come |
| Red rum, red rum, dem have fi run |
| Northstar and the R-Z-A |
| Red rum, red rum, red rum, red rum, run away! Run away! |
| Aiyo I shot the sheriff but I didn’t shoot the deputy |
| One up before I cocked back the Wu-Tang weaponry |
| Told him R-Z-A and the North don’t play |
| (Red rum, red rum, red rum, red rum, run away! Run away!) |
| Killa Californ-I-A, we get up popping in the lo’s, popping in the tre’s |
| Where it’s easiest to get an AK |
| To the gut, make 'em say «Yup» like Brother J |
| Point blank with the shank or the stray |
| (Red rum, red rum, red rum, red rum, run away! Run away!) |
| When I exfixiation those who wait |
| Perpetuate the murder rate, make 'em eat bake |
| Pull out the shotti like somebody gotta pay |
| (Red rum, red rum, red rum, red rum, run away! Run away!) |
| You want the pain? Here comes the pain |
| Get ya punk ass blasted, all you bastards get slain |
| I’m full of Remy, Tanquaray and Alize |
| (Red rum, red rum, red rum, red rum, run away! Run away!) |
| I hit the booth like «kill them with the know |
| Heads high, it’s the return of Death Row» |
| Lacing up my black boots, Eagle for the fray |
| (Red rum, red rum, red rum, red rum, run away! Run away!) |
| Listen closely, 'til your attention’s undivided |
| Many in the past, tried to do what I did |
| Like my beef with cheese on it |
| That B.K. bullshit, yeah we on it |
| Ya girl, ya wife, but my dick, she’s on it |
| Twirling around it like she’s on a pole in a strip club |
| In the cold on the stroll I got that bitch up |
| Five hundred to fuck, a penny to get ya dick sucked |
| Straight paper, hate haters, get ya click up |
| Cronz done grown a lot, I’m not a player, I sit in the owner’s box |
| Spit sixteen like I’m roaming Glocks |
| From F.G. to Long Beach, we zip and zone the block |
| What? |
| It’s all about that bread, watch me stack them chips up high |
| Puff that lye 'til I’m so so high |
| Laid back pushing the six, or the five |
| Picture me falling short, all them fake dives |
| I’ve been known to drop dudes like twice my size |
| Be in different states with a pretty chick by my side |
| Chromed out, bet she can’t wait to blink out |
| Clear the place out, look at ya face now |
| It’s the Don so I thought I’d ought to let it be known |
| Plus take a crack at the throne, I’m holding my own |
| If it ain’t about cash, better watch ya tone |
| From the East to the West, the zone, and I’m gone |
| We splash y’all niggas with the gift of Gods |
| Knocking down buildings like my nizzle Snoop Dogg |
| West Coast analyst, we creep through the fog |
| And it’s an everyday thing like a walk through the mall (run away!) |
| Northstar up in ya |
| Murder, murder, death, run away, cuz he couldn’t fuck wit her |
| I see you moving to the rhythm |
| Like Martin RunTellThat before you fall victim |
| The world is filled up, envy and lust |
| Remy and skunk, that leads to people not giving a fuck |
| Ya done know say Northstar family (run away!) |