Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Run Up, artist - Sheek Louch. Date of issue: 07.11.2005
Song language: English
Run Up |
| Double platinum never; |
| still on the grind though |
| Playin my position, watchin behind though |
| D-Block'd out, must I remind yo |
| Benjamins walk with me, two guns y’all can see |
| Money pile, wild out, nigga who want what |
| Every year it’s somethin new for you to shake your butt |
| Get on yo' strut, you feelin me soldier? |
| Ten hun (ten hut) ten years strong, the record is long |
| Coulda been a lil' richer if I rocked a thong |
| Anyway; |
| the Coupe is gray |
| Sheek startin to get hot in the hood like the month of May |
| My dog tags tangle, white tee on |
| Paul Wall bottoms, big Jacob bangle |
| One dutch of evil and piney |
| Matter fact, gimme some 'gnac and I’mma chase that with a Heine' |
| And make sure you pour some for my thugs behind me (yeah) |
| Hustle 'til the sun up (run up) |
| Keep comin 'til you come up (run up) |
| E’rybody keep your gun up (run up, run up, run up, run up, run up) |
| Run up you gon' die like the beeper call |
| Dawg this is Styles, I ain’t Nas but I «Ether» y’all |
| You should hide when you see that ride creep along |
| Cause it’s on when the doors open — shut his lights out |
| He got his mans, but I’m fuckin get 'em all coffins |
| Lil' niggas is now mine they swallow the barrel find it |
| Bet that’ll open 'em up (I bet) |
| And they all act tough, 'til you pokin 'em up |
| Nigga — run up like you came for a marathon |
| Body’s in the suitcase, head’s in the carry-on (ha ha) |
| You food to a real nigga, rude with the steel nigga |
| Give a fuck; |
| you shoulda chilled nigga (you shoulda chilled) |
| All I know is puttin in work |
| Get the new M-5, nigga put in the work |
| Crack a vanilla dutch, nigga put in the earth |
| Run up I keep the gun up, get put in the earth — what? |
| M-6 revvin, all black on the cell phone |
| And all that like I’m talkin to Devon (Knight Rider) |
| Shorty wanna hang out of the car (uh-huh) |
| Yellin out money ain’t a thang, holdin up a mayonnaise jar |
| Of that stick-ickalous, ridiculous |
| Comin down Harlem, foggin up the whole St. Nickalous (yeah) |
| Red monkies on them pretty things |
| Wipin off ash, showin Scado my Diddy things |
| Pay attention (yeah) gon' miss if I squench in |
| Just us bein there is causin tension |
| No beef, no wreath nece', it get real messy |
| Pull a rifle on you boys like Uncle Jesse |
| I’m Sheek baby girl, one third of the LOX |
| Put you in the mink and out of the fox |
| Added a Honda into the box |
| Earring holes is stretched from the size of the rocks |
| Let’s go |