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letra de run dat back - china mac

[chorus: d-rocc, china mac, & jezz gasoline]
head crack you like it’s ceelo
a hundred shots in this chop, no reload
shoot a n-gga like it’s b-roll
them bullets hit you, warm you up like a pico
look, if you owe me money, better run that back
i’m ridin’ shotty in the ‘rari with the mac on my lap
i said, if you owe me money, better run that back
full bottle in the squeeze, headshot, splat

[verse 1: china mac]
shotty hit him, chop him up, will have his body missin’
run up on him, dump it on him, then i’m in the masi dippin’
choppy get him, all i gotta do is say the word
you ain’t gangster, you’s a bird, leave your brain up on the curb
like, woo how i’m bustin’ bustin’ with the mac again
had me in the pen, my lawyer jewish so i’m back again
back up on the wall, i’d rather die before i grow
we gettin’ money, we gon’ ball, keep it gangster to i fall like
new york to detroit, we keep toys
lowkey from d boys, free noise
money gettin’, syrup sippin’, got my murder weapon
middle finger to the law, nah, we ain’t workin with ’em, baow

[verse 2: jezz gasoline]
the streets crazy, i got used to it
all this hatin’, i got used to it
please don’t pull your gun if you ain’t usin’ it
you don’t wanna die over no stupid sh-t
we gon’ lay ’em down, then gon’ pick ’em up
if it’s sweet, diabetes, we gon’ stick ’em up
gun c-ck, one in the head, you can’t get one up
it’s a war outside, don’t come out, don’t wanna mix you up
but, he was spittin’ tough, now he spittin’ up
body shots, he ain’t gettin’ up
big opps, they ain’t tryna get with us
we gon’ make ’em cry and post pictures up
i’m pullin’ up, liftin’ ’em up, red dot, f-in’ ’em up
i was givin’ h-ll, you was in the precinct givin’ it up
hot boys, turn the temperature up, headshots, ain’t givin’ ’em luck
hot head, she give me a rush, baow baow

[verse 3: snap dogg]
headshot splat, girl i bust that pack
funeral room, mama cryin’, movie end like that
n-gga no new friends, old school, new rims
this b-tch was clean on b-tch, i was payin’ no rent
heard he talkin’ to them people
dump this thirty out this motherf-ckin’ regal
i’m ’bout my bread like a seagull
mel gibson with this weapon, yeah i’m lethal
n-gga say he want smoke, nah i ain’t no joke
caught the n-gga slippin’ had to put him in a chokehold
forty bang syrup soak, he don’t want it no more
talkin’ ’bout you gamblin’, we can bet it on a ten to four

- china mac

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