TM88 and Pi'erre Bourne - Run It

We don't fuck with you no more 'cause niggas be flawed as hell
And you know I'm 'bout my coins like I'm bout to toss in a well
And my money talking crazy, shit be tight as hell
Diamonds dance like the Jabbawockee
I stack cheese like it's melting on broccoli
I'm beating the pussy, I'm using karate
I was in the trap, seen a chrome Maserati
Stack paper up, read about it
Said she wanna fuck, give me your body
I'm in the truck, girl, be my driver
Said she gon' suck, sloppy toppy

I don't know what you want from me
Nigga can't get no songs for free
She wanna give me everything
I just really want a piece
She really want a wedding ring
Kaepernick, gotta take a knee
Why y'all wanna settle me
How that nigga get that cheese
Yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah (trust me)
Yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah (trust me, trust me)
Countin' my money every Monday (trust me)
Rockin' ice-cream, no sundae (trust me)
We gon' switch at Sunday (trust me)
Know I'll be rich, yeah, one day (trust me)

(Trust me) niggas wanna be just like me (trust me)
Superhero, black lightning (trust me)
Got my Yeezi in the crowd, team Nike (trust me)
Pull out the crown, she wifey (trust me)
Ayy, you in your feelings, I'm numb to the bullshit
Smoke it up now, rollin' a tulip
I got her wet like she jumped off a cruise ship
Dive in her pussy so I never lose it
Keep on a rubber, yes I gotta use it
Smoking and shinin', this shit make me foolish

Yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah
Yeah buddy, yeah buddy, yeah buddy, run it

Depend on us, ayy, we just gon' run it up (run it up)
Depend on us, ayy, we just gon' run it up (run it up, run it up, run it up)
Yeah, the Depend on us, ayy, we was supposed to run it up (run it up)
Depend on us, ayy, we just gon' run it up (run it up)
Depend on us, ayy, we was supposed to run it up (run it up)
Depend on us, ayy, we just gon' run it up (run it up)

Nigga not gang, I don't know him
I'm in Chiraq, shoutout foe'nem
I feel like Shaq, I'm O'Neal
They beat your own ass, Jermaine O'Neal
Nigga talk money, that's my old deal
I just met Howie deal or no deal
She wanna ride like a four-wheel
Amateur bitch, she got no skill
Rafs on my feet, I keep a tab on me
I feel like I'm Santana, jewels on me
I buy what I want, a spoiled brat I be
I get what I want 'cause all this cash on me

All this cash (on me)
Cash, cash, cash (on me, on me, on me)
All this cash (on me)
Cash, cash, cash (on me, on me, on me)
All these racks (on me)
Racks, racks, racks (on me, on me, on me)
All this cash (on me)
Cash, cash, cash (on me, on me, on me)
All these racks (on me)
Racks, racks, racks (on me, on me, on me)

Written by:
Bryan Lamar Simmons, Jordan Timothy Jenks, Lesidney Ragland

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find