Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who Run It, artist - Three 6 Mafia. Date of issue: 24.01.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Who Run It |
| These niggaz got plenty ammo, but they ain’t got plenty guns |
| I’m bustin’out of these cars, got the hoes on the run |
| I’m hearin’plenty of words, but ain’t no actions to boot |
| We can do some straight war for war, we can do some stickin’and movin' |
| We can meet in the middle of these streets or in the middle of this rain |
| I can pop your chest, blast the glock, or pop your jaw diamond ring |
| Bitch don’t hate me hate the bank, or snatch the G’s that I take |
| Or hate my shiny wristband, and big ass rims I rotate |
| See people flip when I’m comin', got some of 'em sick at the stomach |
| They wonder what I brought in, they wonder what I got comin' |
| Niggaz I’m comin’like this, off in your mouth like a bitch |
| Test me when you think I’m in, I’m bringing water, I’ll start it What’s this |
| It’s that player that you love to hate, always see come out the bank |
| Always have to mention my name, when you high on that drank |
| Catch you with this boy you can’t, cause you know I’m holdin’rank |
| When you see the platinum Rolex with the ice it make you faint |
| Through the streets now have you heard, out the Mafia droppin’birds |
| Runnin’from the nazi cops, tossin’out the bags of herb |
| Ain’t afraid to pop the steel, hollow tips to make you feel |
| If you wanna punk me out, pop these niggaz in they grill |
| Chorus: DJ Paul (2x) |
| Crunchy Black: |
| I can’t take any more, I’m bout to explode |
| I’m bout to overload, I’m bout to kill boy |
| All I wanna know is where the G’s at, where the Ki’s at Keep it easy, you don’t want to get speedy |
| All on this motherfuckin room, nigga boom |
| Get on your back so we can get up soon |
| Stab you in your heart with a har-fuckin-poon |
| Nigga boom, nigga boom |
| Scarecrow’s on it, I’m still hungry, stoppin’for a platinum supper |
| Wipe it easy, some black founded, crooked ass set’ll be eating rubber |
| Casue if they skit-skat, gun 'em all down, even ghost towns |
| Splish-Splash, brains on the ground, with a cannon round |
| Ball bat, bash him in his back, beatin’bitches down |
| Battle like blaze from the cross, that he never found |
| Catch a close encounter from the anarchism of these A-bombs |
| Chemical reaction cause the venom shot in to his arm |
| Chorus: DJ Paul (3x) |
| Here we go, all you weak ass hoes |
| In my face like you my friend |
| Triple Six dropped in again, time to make ends |
| Dope game, my game, hoes lame, it’s a shame |
| How that Gangsta Boo is runnin’the click up on you bitches man |
| Fat cat, what I be, packin’how you love that |
| Fuck a platinum plaque, gimme money, where the dollars at |
| (Blap, blap) We dare them to stack it for 10 G’s |
| (Where you from?) Black haven is where I be on my P’s |
| Parents beware, watch out for your children |
| This the one that’ll lock 'em in the basement |
| Some of them talkin’so rugged, some corrupted ugly pussa-pussa |
| Cause the fuckin’all my niggaz, Koopsta tryin’to tell ya somethin' |
| Peter-Peter, pussy eater, one of them fucked by Koopsta Knicca |
| Lord, I done some sins, cause she married, but I don’t know that nigga |
| Figured he is a killa, so he figures he’ll watch us fuckin' |
| Put them muthafuckin’slugs upside that thug, cuz, oh my Chorus: DJ Paul (til fade) |