lirik lagu run it up – peezy
[intro]
yeah
uh
yeah
run it up, run it up, run it up
run it up, run it up, run it up
run it up, run it up, run it up
run it up, run it up, run it up
[verse]
every day that i wake up, i’m just tryna get my cake up
fourty*one with the face bust, bad b*tch with no makeup
i ain’t takin’ no pay cuts, gotta pay me in full
ride with my young bull, when he bust your head, i’ma pay for it
you won’t catch me in the strip club if i ain’t throwin’ no bands
if it’s a problem, we gon’ knock you off, we ain’t throwin’ no hands
fifteen*hundred dollar pair of sneakers, i ain’t wearin’ no vans
four*thousand dollar outfit on, i’m a grown*ass man
run it up, run it up, run it up, what you gon’ do with yourself?
i’m a boss and i’m hands*on, n*gga, i don’t do good with the help
got some k!llers that’ll come see you, n*gga, and i do it myself
all these n*ggas my kids, might whoop they ass with my belt
need a business, gon’ run it in, i could do bad by myself
never told, n*gga, never will, can’t have that on my rep’
five thou’ on my right pocket, ‘nother five thou’ on my left
get you k!lled with my cellphone, you be asked out if i text
do this sh*t with no effort, i don’t fold under pressure
two rollies, i’m extra, that’s a crazy ass necklace
back to back to back h*llcats, i don’t think these n*ggas get the message
two hundred on the dashboard, leave you in the past like my exes
run it up, run it up, run it up, what you gon’ do with your life?
better think about your family, p*ssy n*gga, what they gon’ do when you die?
got some n*ggas ’bout to come home and i got some n*ggas doin’ life
sent the junkie to the corner store, told him bring back a pair of dyk*s
we just caught another box, ain’t no tellin’ what’s in it
fifty ‘bows came vacuum sealed, i’ma bust the watch when i’m finished
might just take the whole summer off, i be back in november
all my n*ggas high heels, we don’t give a f*ck ’bout no temper
left the club in a trackhawk, i don’t give a f*ck ’bout no bentley
pulled out about one*thirty and all the b*tches came with us
sippin’ wock’ in a cream soda, four double cups, me and [?]
i ain’t lettin’ ’em stop me, n*gga, i’ma still ball if i’m injured
run it up, run it up, run it up, fourty*one on my wrist
we don’t do thirty*six, ‘less you talkin’ ’bout a brick
callin’ me, i’ma bang on you if you ain’t talkin’ ’bout no chips
i ain’t worried ’bout sneak dissin’, you ain’t really talkin’ ’bout sh*t
rip my n*gga [?], rip my n*gga [?]
rip my n*gga smurf, it ain’t been the same on these streets
free my n*gga icewear, free my n*gga dp
small n*gga with a big pistol, bust your head on gp
ten thou’ for a show, i ain’t comin’ down on my price
seventy*five hundred for a verse, n*gga, you could pay me in pints
i ain’t playin’ with y’all little n*ggas, i rather play with your wife
40k in diamonds on, touch one, you pay with your life
i’m just talkin’ my sh*t, n*gga, i don’t need no hook
stack on me all blue hundreds, b*tch look thicker than a book
postin’ guns on the ‘gram, p*ssy n*gga, you ain’t no k!ller, you shook
whole city know you a fraud, if i see your b*tch, she took
fiends say the dope straight drop, n*gga, curtis seal the cook
all this motherf*ckin’ jewelery on, cost an arm, leg, and a foot
get money, get money, n*gga, ’cause your shorty can’t eat books
signed up for this street sh*t right when i jumped off the porch
run it up, run it up, run it up, i ain’t gon’ tell you again
took my charge on a ten, i ain’t tellin’ on my friend
v12 in a s coupe, ain’t no supercharger on a benz
run with dealers and swipers, n*gga, we sell dope and beans
got some n*ggas do the phone sh*t, they’ll clear your line or go again
got some n*ggas that’s still close, get your b*tch fresh*ass kids
got some n*ggas with the gift cards, help you decorate your new crib
i don’t knock no n*gga hustle, do what you gotta do to live
two pops already poured sittin’ on chill in the fridge
two wraiths and a bentley tuck, ’bout to pull up the [?]
more money than a owner at a club, we don’t leave when it end
more money than your baby daddy, b*tch, f*ck you and your kids
[outro]
mm
let the beat ride out, dav’
yeah
(david [?])
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