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We Run The Town (Feat. Vado)
Lloyd Banks
Do you have any idea what you stumbled on
Put chills every-time the sun is on
I'm heating up and I'm out the pot
My style came from the suns of corn
Shine so bright get the crowd shades
Might get burned when the sun perform
On point cause you don't get 2 mistakes
There's rules and apes, I'm jungle born
All proceeds to myself, 4 g's on these belts
You cold freezing, I'm so evil
See me noone sees me, be stealth
Thinks they got the game in a headlock,
This ain't gonna feel like a legshot
More like I'm rammin y'all with a cannonball
All out til ya head pop
Now everybody poppin shit cause I'm popular
Think I just seen a binocular
Put me anywhere and I'll stand out
Kickin 16 to the opera, figured I'll bring out a throwback
But the bitch look mean and they jockin her
But I'm mean type and you know that
And I'm yelling out "where the hoes at"
Selling out of the Kodak
Tell them that I'll never go back
Killing them now let the dough stack
Still be a legend with no plaque
Million dollar my door mat
I get them with one of my own raps
I'm chilling on something exclusive
On the south side, nigga hold that
Shout to my bitches, I got a million
Fuck all my haters, fuck how they feeling
My money is up, up to the ceiling
Your buzzing died down, I did the killin (shit)
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
Hey yo, my mask on like give me that
Max born, we empty that
Act wrong, we clap strong
Air max on my Fendi strap
4 door that Bentley black
Like chords drop plenty racks
4 4's, we stomp 4's you talk more than these snitching cats
Fuck I'm hungry (who)
Nigga you don't know what they put me through
Should've gained from the block what I rock from the stoop
But you ain't tryna floss with the rock, go to school
Never thought it's my sign to copy a move
But even when it's hot nigga it probably cool
Yeah I've served that, who you learned that from?
Time to get a clique on the block with a tool
Boss-ling, they call me Ross-ling
To save the bosses through rawest voices, God's strings (they know)
Walk-in closets show every grand, I'm glossing
Go in my pockets take 50 grand it's boss-thing
Shout to my bitches, I got a million
Fuck all my haters, fuck how they feeling
My money is up, up to the ceiling
Your buzzing died down, I did the killin (shit)
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
compositores: Christopher Lloyd
Put chills every-time the sun is on
I'm heating up and I'm out the pot
My style came from the suns of corn
Shine so bright get the crowd shades
Might get burned when the sun perform
On point cause you don't get 2 mistakes
There's rules and apes, I'm jungle born
All proceeds to myself, 4 g's on these belts
You cold freezing, I'm so evil
See me noone sees me, be stealth
Thinks they got the game in a headlock,
This ain't gonna feel like a legshot
More like I'm rammin y'all with a cannonball
All out til ya head pop
Now everybody poppin shit cause I'm popular
Think I just seen a binocular
Put me anywhere and I'll stand out
Kickin 16 to the opera, figured I'll bring out a throwback
But the bitch look mean and they jockin her
But I'm mean type and you know that
And I'm yelling out "where the hoes at"
Selling out of the Kodak
Tell them that I'll never go back
Killing them now let the dough stack
Still be a legend with no plaque
Million dollar my door mat
I get them with one of my own raps
I'm chilling on something exclusive
On the south side, nigga hold that
Shout to my bitches, I got a million
Fuck all my haters, fuck how they feeling
My money is up, up to the ceiling
Your buzzing died down, I did the killin (shit)
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
Hey yo, my mask on like give me that
Max born, we empty that
Act wrong, we clap strong
Air max on my Fendi strap
4 door that Bentley black
Like chords drop plenty racks
4 4's, we stomp 4's you talk more than these snitching cats
Fuck I'm hungry (who)
Nigga you don't know what they put me through
Should've gained from the block what I rock from the stoop
But you ain't tryna floss with the rock, go to school
Never thought it's my sign to copy a move
But even when it's hot nigga it probably cool
Yeah I've served that, who you learned that from?
Time to get a clique on the block with a tool
Boss-ling, they call me Ross-ling
To save the bosses through rawest voices, God's strings (they know)
Walk-in closets show every grand, I'm glossing
Go in my pockets take 50 grand it's boss-thing
Shout to my bitches, I got a million
Fuck all my haters, fuck how they feeling
My money is up, up to the ceiling
Your buzzing died down, I did the killin (shit)
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
We run the town, g'd up, hoodied down
compositores: Christopher Lloyd
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