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letra de run to the beat - foom

run to the beat, b-tch you know i’m gon’ eat
and you know i don’t sleep
and she tugging and loving on me, i’m gon’ skeet
like i’m blasting the heat, hit your ass on repeat
with the mask like i’m ski, get the cash that’s blue cheese
lemon pepper my wings
why the f-ck you with boul, if you know he gon’ sing
got you on tippy toes like you is ballerina
moving that white while he turning christina
losing that fight giving up to your demons
they calling you heathen and stop you from breathing
that’s why he got glock on his hip for no reason
a big boiling pot, where these n-ggas is breathing
they lurking they creeping
they want you to drop your location
thеm n-ggas they patiently waiting
to fry your ass like somе bacon, no assalamu alaik-m
leave your head vacant

i told my cuz be safe i know he live dangerous
chop up the beef cause these n-ggas stay hating
i chop up the beat and you know that it’s staining
you stay in the street but ain’t getting no paper
lead to a box or you meeting your maker
n-ggas take chances they load up the fye, fye, fye, fye
and they blam it
life dealt you some cards while you play like you gambit
her p-ssy not fish but it’s pink like some salmon
b-tch i be rambling
with this life taking chances b-tch
new work get a sample then
new shirt camp couture the print
stay on the tree like a ornament
you know i’m going in
your girl a hoe wit her friends
she blessed me and then she blessed on my mans
stay wit that green like i’m peter pan
or popeye, the sailor man
i talk like a veteran
need the top we ain’t settling
aye momma been hustling
since the blue altima and green caravan
i can’t hate on my pops man i love em to death
but i swear i’ll be better man
run to the beat can’t be dragging my feet
man this sh-t ain’t no running man, god d-mn

run to the beat, b-tch you know i’m gon’ eat
and you know i don’t sleep
and she tugging and loving on me, i’m gon’ skeet
like i’m blasting the heat, hit your ass on repeat
with the mask like i’m ski, get the cash that’s blue cheese
lemon pepper my wings
why the f-ck you with boul, if you know he gon’ sing
got you on tippy toes like you is ballerina
moving that white while he turning christina
losing that fight giving up to your demons
they calling you heathen and stop you from breathing
that’s why he got glock on his hip for no reason
a big boiling pot, where these n-ggas is breathing
they lurking they creeping
they want you to drop your location
them n-ggas they patiently waiting
to fry your ass like some bacon, no assalamu alaik-m
leave your head vacant

- foom

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