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letra de run it up! - moxley!

[intro: moxley!, majin, & julian]
ayy, bro, t-tell these n-ggas how much you hate fat b-tches, bro (yeah, yeah, yeah)
my n-gga, f-ck fat b-tches, bro (yeah, yeah, run it, run it, run it)
i- i hate fat b-tches with a passion (run it up, run it, run it, run it up, b-tch)
f-ck all that body positivity sh-t, f-ck your jelly rolls, n-gga (run it up, run it, run it, run it up)
i hate fat b-tches, bro (run it up, run it, run it, run it up)

[verse 1: moxley!]
we gon’ cut his f-ckin’ face, yeah
we gon’ run up in his place, yeah
ain’t no runnin’ from me, lil’ b-tch, you ain’t safe
shootin’ at his head, i’m gon’ catch a murder case

[verse 2: flxres]
loud pack got me nauseous (yeah)
why he actin’ pompous?
should be actin’ cautious (yeah)
we gon’ cause a ruckus (yeah)
all black bandits, we the phantom troupe (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
why the f-ck he talkin’ sh-t, he know it’s absolute (b-tch, f-ck)
we gon’ beat his skull in ‘til it’s f-ckin’ black and blue (yuh)
my n-ggas actin’ lightskin, yea, they only drive the coupe (yeah)
hey, what happened to that boy? go and ask him for yourself
beat that boy down, put his ass up on the shelf
i done made this beat, i don’t need no f-ckin’ help
only want the green, b-tch, i look like perfect cell
my n-ggas playin’ dirty, we gon’ hit below the belt
that boy gon’ be f-ckin’ singing like his name adele
[verse 3: majin]
yeah, this ain’t a plot twist (b-tch)
shootin’ at your body with a strap and it go cl!ck-cl!ck (yeah)
f-ckin’ on your mama and your auntie with my d-ck-d-ck (what)
charge myself with hate, cause’ you know i’m f-ckin’ k!llin’ sh-t
i’m a demon, a trigger happy fiend
i’m an evil lord, where’s my evil queen?
tear up everything when i’m on the scene
i’m a menace when i pull up, i make satan scream

[verse 4: moxley!]
red dot to his head, that’s the beam
i’m a vampire, b-tch, i put ice all on my t–th
i know a bad latina b-tch, she wanna f-ck on me
scare the b-tch’s boyfriend, by the way the choppa sing (b-tch)
rockin’ lv, b-tch, it’s all up in my ring
you know i’m rockin’ gucci, b-tch it’s all up on my feet
stab him in his chest, leavin’ blood all on the scene
i ain’t talkin’ juice, but i got blood up on my jeans

[verse 5: flxres, majin, moxley!]
sonic 3, b-tch, run it up and hit ‘em with the knuckle (boom)
throw up b’s, b-tch, we gon’ leave him bleedin’ in a puddle (yeah)
kick him in the kneecaps, throw him down and make him tumble
put the pressure down on him, make that motherf-cker buckle
stab a fat b-tch in the stomach, i’m gon’ pop her like a bubble
30 b-tches givin’ head, that’s a f-ckin’ royal rumble
heard us knockin’ at his door, now that boy know he in trouble
i’mma say what i want, i don’t care ‘bout being subtle

- moxley

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