| I think you better run Forrest
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| Run Forrest, run
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| Run Forrest, run
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| Run Forrest, run
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| I think that boys a track star yeah he can run fast
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| Move like the NASCAR don’t think he got legs
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| I’m tryna break the backboard might leave 'em braindead
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| I’m running out the back door I know I’m in man
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| Might catch you at the corner store might leave your ass dead
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| Run like flash hope you fly like superman
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| He tryna get away he tryna get up out the jam
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| Girl your man can do the dash yeah let’s see how fast he can
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| First come first I had to roll another blunt
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| Speedy Gonzales had a bad day at lunch
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| Once was a baller now an ordinary chump
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| He made a couple dollar bills now he feeling bossed up
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| Shit went all bad now it’s Guns 'R Us
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| Got me trippin' over clouds went from swishers to a dutch
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| Run track star you got a movie coming up
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| It be the couple extra clips that leave yo ass starstruck
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| Come through paid in full watch you got us
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| Slippin'' on the clock don’t you be no breakfast
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| I see you tryna run hope he bet not break a leg
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| Oops there it is boy you shoulda bought a fan
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| Bitches give me head make me fly like superman
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| Bullets big as hell going straight through minivans
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| Niggas on my dick got so many fans
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| Fo 'nem talking 'bout bucks hell yeah I need inns
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| Damn that boy a track star that sucka run fast
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| He must love his body cus his legs hate his ass
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| Steady tryna run its gone only make it bad
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| Aim at his top red beam melting heads
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| Pull up on a nigga watch his ass take flight
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| Fo 'nem head shootin muthafuckers they?
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| Better stay inside cus I know your ass scared
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| 30 in that pole leave a muthafucker dead |