Lyrics:
There's five lanes, five bad brothers
Gonna migrate on your highway
Runners of gaming, at nine AM to the pavement
I'm on the new town by noon
The road is
behind me
We getaway smooth, ah nigga made good
Came up quick to the hideout
Wait until midnight till we ride out,
Hit ah car so we can drive out,
y'all bitches I'd be
Straight by the summer
Told y'all bitches right Back 4 Da Summer
I Told y'all bitches right Back 4 Da Summer
I Told y'all bitches
now
Tell me what is up
Send me your location
I might be pulling up
Giving you donations
Naw I ain't runner up
Yeah yeah yeah
I'm on the way
Car
with a front seat that needs ya
Put them dance floor sawdust boots on to them runners
Be my shotgun rider if ya wanna
Cuz i got a
CHORUS
Getaway plan
your lucky you can take her cross the rail road tracks
Where the man in the moon works his magic
On the second runner up of the 4H pageant
Seems like
If you're lucky you can take her cross the rail road tracks
Where the man in the moon works his magic
On the second runner up of the 4H pageant
You just wanted an escape, just a little getaway
Maybe get a little fame, maybe even get some pay
See how lethal my style is with the stylus
and have an escape. Obie was makin' sure
It was about four or five hours later that Alice (remember Alice?
There's a song about Alice)
Alice came by
Just in case you forgot
We go by The Runners (hold up)
Chris Brown
This what we do
We do this
I be throwin' up my cash, actin' like money
by my lonely, on my own, I had to level up
Trap out with my OG, cookin' yola, run the cheddar up (skrrt)
Cashed out on a Rollie, wrist so frozen, I
we're outchea doing stick-ups
She's my getaway driver
Hanging out the window, I love the thrill
I love the feeling
You can tell it's me 'cause
My woolly
house marble in the floor
Bentley truck G wagon 4 door
Yea everyday I'm gone be wylin
Weekend getaway in the islands
Aye so much money I'm talking private
I send two niggas back up top, and come back
We chop up rock, by midnight, we open up shop
It's four in the mornin', we on the block creepin'
a sack
I pull up, jump out the back
Bad bitch and her ass fat
Four door coupe, it got a hatch
On the Xans, I might crash that
Car got gadgets, my
really think straight (Uh)
Fuck it might be the champagne (Champagne)
Motherfucker there's thirty-four or twenty-five cop cars on the highway
Uh, in
basket. And
finally Oliver St John-Mollusc (G.C.), Harrow and the Guards, thought
by many to be this year's outstanding twit. Now they're moving up
we crawl by
Let 'em look at us (Let 'em look at us)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Two miles per hour, we crawl by
Let 'em look at us (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Thirty cars
techs by your rockets threw jets
Who's next to get hit by firepower that's so raw?
Go play; 4-4's ready for war
[Mase]
All out, what, what
Want
car
(Ay bro slow down)
You know them ones when you get texted by a blast from the past
Restaurants Michelin star, nah
I'll go to the marj's
Homemade
I'm gonna take my baby out to Second Peak
It's the first time we've been out in a week
I'm gonna park the 4Runner on 38th Street
We gotta take
the road now playing chicken
Must’ve heard getaway today more than a Harvey Weinstein victim
Pulled a hoe out the car, bright yellow, 4 seater, felt like
Fuck man up, mortal combat
4 door car, I told you you'll get whacked
Big Blade can't fit in case so take that
You got yours, I got mine
Think twice cos
a runner
Haters, I spot you from afar and I'm the deer hunter
They be thinkin' nice car, nice crib
I be thinkin' how long will these niggas let me live
I
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