Tryna Run G Songtext
Yeah
Yeah
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout? I got my brothers with me
And out here in New York, I'm leanin'
You know what I'm sayin'? We schemin'
You feel me? Yeah
You know what I'm sayin'? Like
We just been gettin' money and we just been stayin' out the way, like
This shit for real
You know? You can't be playin' out here in these streets
You know? (Man)
She let me stick it in slow, do you feel it?
I been really ridin' 'round with my killers, my hitters
I been independent
Fuck around and bust down the pendant, uh
I got real slimes, I got mob ties
Yeah, I'm in New York just like Cam'ron, uh
On the shoreline just like Ron-Ron
They tryna run G, I don't feel it, uh
They said, Drego, baby boy, you the realest
My baby cookin' in the kitchen like a chemist, uh
I'm the one that did this shit, you the victim, yeah
Thirty-two, Hamilton, we gon' rip him
Goddamn, that ass fat, let me grip it, grip it
The dog, my dawg, he send it, ah
It's a quarter brick, I'ma whip it
It's a Hellcat, I'ma drift it
Hundred thou' or two hundred thousand
I could get 'em lined up
Yeah, I'm in my prime, huh?
The dove game goin' down and up
Philippine Supreme, Louis V
I could do this shit every day this week
If it's a meal, I let the whole team eat
Let's get the bag, yeah, down to the DMV
Huh, got this lil' bitch from the Oakland up at PNC, huh
And she gon' hit them stores like them GC's
Nigga, you ain't never turned in a hundred bands worth of gift fees
Nigga, I'm the one made this scamming shit trendy, hold on
Track one, track two, nigga, pass me the embosser
Sixty Xboxs, pack of panties for my daughter
Tryna get a hundred-eleven pros out of Target
Paint him with this glizzy, tell the feds I'm an artist
Huh, I done hit every Walmart up in Charlotte
Nigga hit the store like I'm dressed like a gardener
Huh, I'm 'bout to line my other cousin up, huh, like a barber
Huh, he should've known he shouldn't brung that nigga 'round a robber
Just like the Carters, bitch, we got the block slappin'
And the trap on bounce, Josh Jackson
If I get a hundred 'bows, I'll probably stop rappin'
Make 'em disappear with this Glock like it's magic
Uh, I got real slimes, I got mob ties
Yeah, I'm in New York just like Cam'ron, uh
On the shoreline just like Ron-Ron
They tryna run G, I don't feel it
Yeah
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout? I got my brothers with me
And out here in New York, I'm leanin'
You know what I'm sayin'? We schemin'
You feel me? Yeah
You know what I'm sayin'? Like
We just been gettin' money and we just been stayin' out the way, like
This shit for real
You know? You can't be playin' out here in these streets
You know? (Man)
She let me stick it in slow, do you feel it?
I been really ridin' 'round with my killers, my hitters
I been independent
Fuck around and bust down the pendant, uh
I got real slimes, I got mob ties
Yeah, I'm in New York just like Cam'ron, uh
On the shoreline just like Ron-Ron
They tryna run G, I don't feel it, uh
They said, Drego, baby boy, you the realest
My baby cookin' in the kitchen like a chemist, uh
I'm the one that did this shit, you the victim, yeah
Thirty-two, Hamilton, we gon' rip him
Goddamn, that ass fat, let me grip it, grip it
The dog, my dawg, he send it, ah
It's a quarter brick, I'ma whip it
It's a Hellcat, I'ma drift it
Hundred thou' or two hundred thousand
I could get 'em lined up
Yeah, I'm in my prime, huh?
The dove game goin' down and up
Philippine Supreme, Louis V
I could do this shit every day this week
If it's a meal, I let the whole team eat
Let's get the bag, yeah, down to the DMV
Huh, got this lil' bitch from the Oakland up at PNC, huh
And she gon' hit them stores like them GC's
Nigga, you ain't never turned in a hundred bands worth of gift fees
Nigga, I'm the one made this scamming shit trendy, hold on
Track one, track two, nigga, pass me the embosser
Sixty Xboxs, pack of panties for my daughter
Tryna get a hundred-eleven pros out of Target
Paint him with this glizzy, tell the feds I'm an artist
Huh, I done hit every Walmart up in Charlotte
Nigga hit the store like I'm dressed like a gardener
Huh, I'm 'bout to line my other cousin up, huh, like a barber
Huh, he should've known he shouldn't brung that nigga 'round a robber
Just like the Carters, bitch, we got the block slappin'
And the trap on bounce, Josh Jackson
If I get a hundred 'bows, I'll probably stop rappin'
Make 'em disappear with this Glock like it's magic
Uh, I got real slimes, I got mob ties
Yeah, I'm in New York just like Cam'ron, uh
On the shoreline just like Ron-Ron
They tryna run G, I don't feel it
