lirik lagu good run – sweet t
[intro]
(ooh, sh*t, that’s a danny g beat)
(d*mn, jakesand)
[chorus]
i couldn’t tell you if in it for the money or the fun
if we’re bein’ real, i ain’t seen ‘nother one
i f*ck with all my fans ’cause they bump my sh*t a ton
boy, i’m on a good run, i’m not stoppin’ ’til i’m done
one*fourty in the whip, you could call me ryan dunn
what i call chump change, would probably have you stunned
no kids to my name but i got a lot of sons
you know they’ll die for that money and they live by the gun
[verse]
they wanna lay with the dogs, ’cause they wake up with the fleas
oxymoron, i’ll pack the type of heat to make you freeze
i be reachin’ for that b*tch everytime i hear a sneeze
i be reachin’ for that b*tch when i feel the wind breeze
you won’t catch me with no broke bums
’cause that sh*t is a disease
if i ain’t makin’ cheese, then i am just please
if you ain’t got no hustle, you should be diseased
all the ladies like sweet, they think i’m really funny
all the fellas like sweet ’cause i’m talkin’ cash money
you’re the type to put in work for the gang
thinkin’ that you’re movin’ up, the whole time, you’re a crash dummy
my opps were makin’ threats, but they don’t got the guts
everytime i hit the booth, you know i go nuts
me verse you? that’s dollars to donuts
big sweet, be makin’ music for the grownups
used to be a small fry, now i’m a mover and a shaker
you used to be the guy, now you’re a loser and a faker
i f*cked with mo bamba ’til they moved him to the lakers
i’ma run me up some commas, then cop a couple acres
by now it’s safe to say i’m solidified
give me one more year, there won’t be a bigger fish to fry
i’ll up the bl!ck on you, will leave you mystified
pistol whip you twenty times, leave you misty*eyed
big sweet be droppin’ bombs like batista
talk funny on my name and it’s hasta la vista
i be goin’ blow*for*blow, quip pro quo
when i see the opposition, it’s all systems go
i’m affirmitive with action, you could call me nixon
i keep a tool close in case somethin’ needs fixin’
vip for big sweet, i don’t gotta sneak the stick in
thirty*three in my lap, i got a pocket full of pippen
b*tch, i came up out the mud like a gopher
all my people baggin’ up, you would think this is the grocer’s
i be cookin’ up like stouffers, i got more grace than topher
your girl hit as h*ll, she belongs in an enclosure
[?] finna make an omlette, you gotta crack a couple eggs
while i’m tryna make ms, so i’m crackin’ heads and legs
zaza in the wood, you won’t catch me smokin’ rakes
i get it off the late work, you’re the type to [?] and beg
[chorus]
i couldn’t tell you if in it for the money or the fun
if we’re bein’ real, i ain’t seen ‘nother one
i f*ck with all my fans ’cause they bump my sh*t a ton
boy, i’m on a good run, i’m not stoppin’ ’til i’m done
one*fourty in the whip, you could call me ryan dunn
what i call chump change, would probably have you stunned
no kids to my name but i got a lot of sons
you know they’ll die for that money and they live by the gun
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