Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Keep Runnin’, artist - Z-Ro. Date of issue: 04.02.2016
Song language: English
Keep Runnin’ |
| I pledge allegiance, to getting my cash on |
| Either ligalo with a Glock, and my mask on |
| I gotta go get it, cause I got an appetite |
| Down to run up in your residence, and blast on sight |
| It’s for the paper it’s for the bread, it’s for the feddy |
| Seventeen stash spots, between the Dodge and the Chevy |
| Fuck the whole wide world, it’s just me and my songs |
| Constantly moving on, to find a better place to call home |
| Keep running, but always look where you going |
| Whether it’s sunny or snowing, them people’ll kick your do' in |
| They keep coming, I had to gather up my rocks |
| And relocate blocks, and set up my shop away from the cops |
| Cause I’m a hustler, slash all that |
| With plenty Christian in the background, for fall backs |
| That mean I got a plan, B-C and D-E-F-G excetera |
| Z-Ro running game, two thousand two steps ahead of you |
| Keep running |
| Keep on running |
| I’m on a whole nother level, now I’m running for the devil |
| When I finally get the shovel, I’ma bury him mayn |
| Bringing true to the game, so I’m putting God first |
| No burden I can’t handle, I done been through the worst |
| Now it’s time for the better, me and Ro getting setter |
| Drop the top in rainy weather, and I’m loving it mayn |
| From the cradle to the grave, no more being a slave |
| When you see me best believe me, I be off of the chain |
| Gripping the grain doing the thang, with Gene and Day |
| Screaming my name, before I go on I make em pay |
| Business first, making sure my money is straight |
| I’m loving the hate, because it’s keeping food on the plate |
| It’s later and Ro, yeah you know we running the show |
| Getting the do', rapper slash CEO |
| Wherever I go, I always be the number one stunning |
| So you better keep on running |
| Everyday is a struggle, so I gotta get up and get it |
| I’m dodging the federalies, trying to stack my mill ticket |
| It’s wicked up in these streets, if you don’t work you don’t eat |
| That’s why my eyes are wide open, never falling asleep |
| I roll O-N-E deep, cause I don’t need no niggas |
| They hold you down everytime, when you trying to stack figgas |
| I’m clutching chrome plated triggas, that’s keeping these bitches running |
| Faster than Forest Gump, that twist and turn when they coming |
| I been a hustler for a hustler, was even thinking of hustling |
| And sold every kinda drug, and that’s the end of discussion |
| I’m not trusting nan nigga, nan bitch or friend |
| Because they all turn fraud, in the god damn end |
| I’m dropping rhymes and wreckes, and my sixteens is cold |
| No baking soda it’s over, I’m mixing O-N-E do' |
| When it’s finally wrapped in plastic, then shipped to the stores |
| We’ll be them seven figga niggas, O-N-E and Z-Ro |