Jack Be - Nascar

Running on the beat like a track star
Going high speed in a fast car
Racing to the money like Nascar
While you play a lil game in your backyard
Running on the beat like a track star
Going high speed in a fast car
Racing to the money like Nascar
While you play a lil game in your backyard
Really do this shit, don't just act hard
I'm a chef with it like Boyardee
Sheesh
At your door with a crowbar like I forgot my key
Controller please
Way I play this game they just NPC's
No controlling me
X, I jump on the beat
Your crew to square, keep em from 'round me
Money Trees as I reach my peak
It's just looking green
Like they envy me who's your enemy
Is it me? Cause he's a friend of me
And technically I mean I guess he's me
Nobody cares what the fuck that means
Look I had to concentrate
This ain't Minute Maid
I procrastinate
Till it's out of date
Set my name like a save the date on your calendar
Boy need a gun that can match his caliber
Chosen one like I tote Excalibur
Showed em how to learn
Watch the hundreds burn
Swear they'll never learn
Until they in the dirt
Blood is on my shirt
I need to make it work
Or I'll make it worse
I smell rubber burn
When I make a turn
Running on the beat like a track star
Track Star
Fast Car
Nascar
Backyard
Running on the beat like a track star
Going high speed in a fast car
Racing to the money like Nascar
While you play a lil game in your backyard
Running on the beat like a track star
Going high speed in a fast car
Racing to the money like Nascar
While you play a lil game in your backyard
They said to go fast so I'm pushing the gas
Out past 11 and 12's on our ass
Sunrise at 7 until then we toting the weapon
Mirror's reflecting, I never look back
Hop on a jet get jet lag
Pushed through set backs, step back
Tell me keep check of where my heads at
Tap Tap knocking with a death trap
I'm pushing the peddle, I never settle
I pull the strings like I'm Gapetto
I'm drinking, I'm smoking, I'm twisted like pretzel
I'm thinking and choking on thoughts in my mental
Baby this income will be my outcome
Showed them where I'm from
They still wanna play dumb
Playing games like it's Xbox Live
In a COD lobby back in '09
I know your soft ass wouldn't survive
And this is real life, better luck next time
I could walk a mile in your shoes, bet you couldn't walk in mine
I like the way she move, Shit I'm boutta make her mine
Running on the beat like a track star

Written by:
Jacob Shive

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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