Lyrics:
it's all fake couldn't run with that
Trap stars ain't run the trap
That was done by the devil they just running laps
Your memory needs jogging I could
Aw Cool & Dre
I was the one who believed in you
Hahahaha
I got one bad chick, she by my side
About two more wait-in outside
Roll out the red
Yeah, I'm on the run
Here I come, I'm with your mom (We got London On Da Track)
If the opp come, I get to squeezin' on the mop
I'm on the run
ass was to piss up
By me or anyone of my boys I bust you in yo mouth and
You still talkin' noise try'na get yo rep on knowin' that you fake
back, i'm lit like some matches
High like a roof
Down by my roots
Got my wifey happy in the back room
Run it up like an athlete cause i'm fast to
When you
you take me by the hand||[Chorus:]|Let's run away my love (ooh-hoo-ooh)|Follow the stars above (ooh-hoo-ooh)|Who knows just where they'll lead|They
the best grass, I ask...
Have you in your long-legged life
ever seen a watch surrounded by this much pink ice? (uhh)
Look but don't touch, muthafucker think
Been at loss, suffered loss
Failing lots, this ain't a toss
This was always designed
This was always designed
By power of the mind, power of the mind
So I gotta smoke
A lot online
So I revert to jokes
But I can not play witchyu
Swear that I might run a fade witchu
Bitch you is a lame
The scope on ya
when I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're moving on the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just gentle on my
Just behind the station, before you reach the traffic island, a river runs through' a concrete channel.
I took you there once; I think it was after
that run up my back
You are my star
Nothing else can lead me off track
Hey, yeah
You're like a wildfire
You got me rising high
You're innocence,
that run up my back
You are my star
Nothing else can lead me off track
Hey, yeah
You're like a wildfire
You got me rising high
You're innocence,
and myself nigga
I'm my daddy who ain't never left
Yeah
Track record long yours is on elf
Yeah
Good by myself, told em Keep well
Yeah
clla them who
Worm storm is short and fat.
I represent the underdog you know my steez
I'm represented by a label in the overseas
Yo Amsterdam yes I am the man got
a fuck bout' em' dying
Like a real diamond, yeah, I gotta shine
You get to pick, you want this 40 or 9?
I was locked up losing track of my time
Like
stack
I run it up
Like I'm running track
I got the sauce
Big Mac
I come from the jungle
Where niggas could rumble
But niggas still pop you just like
how to feel
I wanted what they had back in the fourth grade
Family vacas, you know I did it all
Just to see my little sis by a waterfall
My great
We got London on da Track
Drop top, wop
If Young Metro don't trust you, I'm gon' shoot you
Cartier frames, call me four eyes
Still can cook
you's up to the
Critics and their rebuttals
Groomed by the hands of God
I'm bout to bubble
I will never spare the rod to pop the bubble
I keep a small
We wasn't dirt poor but we didn't have enough
Started with a gram now I'm smoking like the plug
When Mackology hit the track u know he run it up
back
You gotta hear the facts
I'm looking for a new way to change it back
To the way that it was
When we were back on track
Before you run off with my
money, yeah
8 years old, I knew Ben Frank was a hundred
Yeah
Count the cash, get the bag, track star
Run it up you might skress about yo check
Because that
shit with or without an accomplice
And run the gauntlet with whoever that wants this
High voltage
The unforgettable sound
High voltage
Bringin you
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