On Da Run

Eh yo, god bless the dead, ya know?

And all my cats I know with the football jerseys on: dont have no regrets

Hold them numbers

Big up to the feds who tried to catch me in 88, nigga

Ha! Funk Flav, Mr. Mack

Eh yo, I cant face going to jail

Cuz my life is bullshit, man, nigga fuck paying bail

Shit is on the third rail

On my tail is the feds, baby, Frank ?? for club med

Niggaz wanna kill me, god

Scared I might wrap these niggaz

Entrap these niggaz

If the feds wasnt watching I would clap these niggaz

I mean put a bullet through the fuckin back of these niggaz

Phone ringing off the hook, probably tapped my niggaz

See the headlines now: "Mack found in 5 rivers"

FDR, thinkin was it better when I didnt buy the car

Didnt cop the bar, didnt buy my girl mother a new jaguar

Shit, my moms got the Continental R with the backseat bar

Talkin about "my sons a star"

Little do she know I'm Caesar and world ???

Crack is dead, I'm sellin X instead

Bitches in my bed will fill your ass with lead

Keep givin me head 'til the tip turns red

Sit back and watch me butter this bread

On the run

Best three words to describe my life, make the game my wife

On the run

Hustler, born and raised, in the streets where I spent my days

I told my main chick, pack your bags, She ain't listen

Chrome started whistling and turned her Christian

Blew up the whole house using nitro-glycerin

But the Expedition in the garage was missing

Moved the nannies and the kids to a new position

Intuition gave me suspicion

Shit is murder, do I kill myself and fuck them niggaz' satisfaction

Or demand action, pull out toast and start blasting

Young niggaz asking, wise cats only give a fraction

Streets is the young man's attraction

I dug myself into a hole

Into a world thats cold

Pimps, players, bitches, ballers, hustlers, drugs, guns and thugs

Million dollar homes, like Capone's, persian rugs

Gentlemen with fake hugs, turn to slugs

I'm a made man, paid man, show no love

Clock's ticking, plot thicken, probably written in a book somewhere

My fuckin life ain't fair

See either way, i'ma make it off this earth without a trace

So if I ever see the judge, i'ma spit in the bitch face

Eh yo, faggots

Nah i'm sayin, all you sweet cats, nahmean?

Real gentleman dont need it

Its strictly drive-thru window meals

Enemies lurking every crack and crevice, eating rocks for bre