"Who Run It" lyrics
Yeah, yeah
Chains off, chains on
Big shot, now I got my aim on
Any track I was ever featured on I done done my thing on it
You could put CB, Ty, Trey or T-Pain on it
If you talkin' Weeknd and Bruno Mars I could still hang on it
Lil' mama give me head 'til I'm dead, I call it brainstormin'
You ain't even halfway 'Yonce, I could put a ring on it
Pop, country, rap, trap, punk, rock, I could still sing on it
On the block wit' niggas big as Shaq but I could still hang on it
3 story, no story, no Tory, this a different lane on 'em
Lane to lane, white ghost, red gust, that's a candy cane, homie
Everybody wanna be the king but who gon' make the claim for it
I'ma say me for the moment
Killed the game now I don't want it
So [?], I ain't scared or nothin'
Chicago made me a bear or somethin'
I just skydive, I'm so live, you could catch me comin' out the air or somethin'
Lost some niggas gettin' this money, still got a pocket full of dead homies
Got a bad bitch wit' a head on her
Versace robe, two bands for it
It's God's plan, I ain't playin' for it
I'm just tryna be the landlord
I came to fuck up the buildin'
Hitman, I'm gon' make a killin'
I'm used to shoppin' at Sears, now I be shoppin' wit Siri
Used to be stealin' cologne, now I be stealin' your bitches
Yeah
Nah mean?
[?]
[?] slow it down, you know?
Go the other way on 'em
Yeah
Pull up to the Valley, car got no keys
Diamond pinky ring cost a low key
Make a play [?], you should proceed
Big ballin', put the money on the flo' seats
Bank account always doin' backflips
Used to have the walls and the mattress
Numbers still the same since the old me
Don't get it fucked up, I ain't the old me
Who run it? Now who run it?
My pockets on cucumber
I'ma have yo' girl over
Have her speakin' boonomics
Got the Kevin Gates, I got that two phones, I got two numbers
Ain't talking YouTube numbers
I could take a few summers
Chains off, chains on
Big shot, now I got my aim on
Any track I was ever featured on I done done my thing on it
You could put CB, Ty, Trey or T-Pain on it
If you talkin' Weeknd and Bruno Mars I could still hang on it
Lil' mama give me head 'til I'm dead, I call it brainstormin'
You ain't even halfway 'Yonce, I could put a ring on it
Pop, country, rap, trap, punk, rock, I could still sing on it
On the block wit' niggas big as Shaq but I could still hang on it
3 story, no story, no Tory, this a different lane on 'em
Lane to lane, white ghost, red gust, that's a candy cane, homie
Everybody wanna be the king but who gon' make the claim for it
I'ma say me for the moment
Killed the game now I don't want it
So [?], I ain't scared or nothin'
Chicago made me a bear or somethin'
I just skydive, I'm so live, you could catch me comin' out the air or somethin'
Lost some niggas gettin' this money, still got a pocket full of dead homies
Got a bad bitch wit' a head on her
Versace robe, two bands for it
It's God's plan, I ain't playin' for it
I'm just tryna be the landlord
I came to fuck up the buildin'
Hitman, I'm gon' make a killin'
I'm used to shoppin' at Sears, now I be shoppin' wit Siri
Used to be stealin' cologne, now I be stealin' your bitches
Yeah
Nah mean?
[?]
[?] slow it down, you know?
Go the other way on 'em
Yeah
Pull up to the Valley, car got no keys
Diamond pinky ring cost a low key
Make a play [?], you should proceed
Big ballin', put the money on the flo' seats
Bank account always doin' backflips
Used to have the walls and the mattress
Numbers still the same since the old me
Don't get it fucked up, I ain't the old me
Who run it? Now who run it?
My pockets on cucumber
I'ma have yo' girl over
Have her speakin' boonomics
Got the Kevin Gates, I got that two phones, I got two numbers
Ain't talking YouTube numbers
I could take a few summers
