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lirik lagu run to the money – yella beezy

[intro]
yeah
shun on da beat

[chorus]
big chain, sippin’ fours
cuban link, they’re drippin’ gold
ballin’ all off a ho
i’m a dog, yeah, i know
got it all out the bowl
one in the head, yeah, locked and loaded
choppin’ raw on the stove
your b-tch gon’ call for that pole
don’t make me walk down your bros
and lil’ b-tch stalking, yeah, for sure
you might think i’m crazy now
well business up, ain’t like before
i’m in love with my .40, i gun at a n-gg- throat
i’ma run to that money

[verse 1]
ayy, cuban link with the piece and chain
your n-gg- hatin’ then he’s a lame
don’t f-ck without her, she’s some game
heard he throwin’ salt, then he need some game
no sh-t about leeching, man
y’all keep talking, last n-gg- reaching, man
used to ride like some priests, man
now i’m hopping out of wagens, g’s and things
b-tch, i’m a hustler, yeah, i got the funds
f-ck all that fussing, b-tch, i got the gun
you p-ssy, be capping, be popping your gums
you want all the smoke, well i pop at your lungs
i’m too trigger happy, be popping for fun
yeah, for the bands, i’m still popping them drums
ran up that sack, went and got me a fund
so happy i got a b-tch and got insurance
i might make your b-tch cheese a little
chopper start nuttin’ if i squeeze a little
hollow tips, i swiss cheese a n-gg-
why you cuff the ho if she easy, n-gg-?
cool out, be easy, n-gg-
‘fore i make her run to c breezy, n-gg-
i never f-cked around with sleazy n-gg-s
i just f-cked the ho because she pleased a n-gg-

[verse 2]
hey, hold up, wait up a minute, cuz
they playing games but i been the plug
deliver that sack, call me jimmy johns
rocks chopped up big as cinnabons
call my lil’ n-gg-s to get it done
’cause we got them birds like timmy on
ask around, b-tch, i been a don
f-cked that ho and i ain’t strap a jimmy on, hey
strapped up with the semi drum
beat that p-ssy up until that kitty moan
skrrt, ah skrrt, make that hemi yawn
that n-gg- crashed out, yeah, get him gone
yella, you really wanna get him gone?
n-gg- call shots, yeah, i get sh-t done
chase that sack, money itch my palm
might f-ck your ho, lil’ b-tch don’t run
little b-tch, you pretty, huh?
and met a boss n-gg-, oh really, huh?
with that lame n-gg-, oh really, ma?
come to my pad, you can get it, ma
hey, ’bout cheese, no philly, ma
my city call me the yella p diddy, ma
go’n, tell me what’s the d-mn dealy, ma
not from nebraska, but i’m illy, ma, hah

[outro]
yeah
yeah
yeah

- yella beezy

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