run shit - sdot go & jay hound lyrics
[intro:]
like
(word to my dead)
[chorus: sdot go]
how you beefing, you don’t got no money?
like, b*tch, i really does this
no cap, i really run sh*t
i got the fetty no 4100
get to spinning, bro told me i’m buggin’
ptsd, almost shot him for nothing
[verse: sdot go]
i get active, i don’t gotta mention the sh*t that i do
spend a couple of bands on my jeans, like i don’t gotta say when i spent on the shoes
don’t got experience
little boy do not know what to do, like
b*tch on my timing, not bringing no mop, b*tch i’m bringing my broom
like b*tch who you? mb what? n*gga better not say that
throwing bread on my head
if get [?] first like i bet he won’t pay that
bro put the dot on his*
like, can’t leave my g my waist whеre it stay at
i’m on the side of his*
i’m on thе side of the place where he lay at
blovee keep dissing my name
where was he at when i went to the courts?
[?] hendricks got his own [?]
n*gga died on a drill for not sticking the ball
like too hot, i don’t get near the law
soon as they see me they get on my b*lls
bro*brodie buggin’ like he tryna catch one
like, tryna send him to the lord
back out my gun like i don’t got a [?]
get in my stance, my two feet on the floor
[verse: jay hound]
like, i’m tryna score
free brodie 5ive, he took it on that call
i’m tryna get him, i think he lost
threw up his hands, he thinking that i’m soft
i bet the .40 make a n*gga cough
shot through body, coughing up his organs
like, g2 too important
i know a blazer who ooting like he jordan
bend through that block, was lurking in a foreign
(worda bro)
found me a thot, started spinning with jenna
finger on trigger, they both start kissing
i was sixteen, sat on that block tryna make ma a pack
it was just my ambition
only want problems, we start spinning
five in the chop and i call it my smith
exntendo the clip, don’t do the beam
cause he ain’t getting far, worda bro i get with him
bro, i think they know who hit him
when my gun started moving like hitler
i*i got my g, i think it is racist, cause it’s tryna let off at every n*gga
[chorus: sdot go]
how you beefing, you don’t got no money?
like, b*tch, i really does this
no cap, i really run sh*t
i got the fetty no 4100
get to spinning, bro told me i’m buggin’
ptsd, almost shot him for nothing
[outro:]
graah
graah*graah boom
come here!
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