Who Run It (G Herbo Remix) – Yella Beezy & TrapBoy Freddy
By
[Yella Beezy:] Who the fuck these niggas talkin’ shit? Nigga talkin’ like I ain’t from the Cliff or somethin’ Like a young nigga won’t send a hit or somethin’ Like I won’t feed dick to your bitch or somethin’ Young nigga it’s EA Sports, yeah it’s all in the game Fuck around and get blitzed or somethin’ Nigga gotta know I ain’t really with the bumpin’ Nigga get to bumpin’ we gon’ get to dumpin’
[Trapboy Freddy:] Nigga be talkin’ about all this rap shit like a nigga won’t flip a brick or somethin’ Tuck your chain, you a lick or somethin’ Real murderers, come look us up I ain’t with none of that rap shit, and I don’t care who the hottest And I don’t talk about murders when I rap ’cause we be really catchin’ bodies
[Yella Beezy:] Nigga swear to God never rode a Harley but I swear young nigga I keep a chopper Nigga walk through with a loaded AK with an infra beam, about three binoculars I do the money dance and you a funny man, keep talkin’, lil boy you gon’ need a doctor One of my people gon’ sleep his partner Old sixty ass nigga got to people watchin’
[Trapboy Freddy:] Four of Hi-Tech in the baby bottle Broke in my house but my neighbor popped him What you say? speak louder nigga Hey, I got on hater blockers No I do not hear no haters talkin’ Balenciaga when a nigga walkin’ I been runnin’ shit since a youngin bitch Now that money got a nigga joggin’
[Yella Beezy:] Hey, I don’t hear haters talkin’ Small brown nigga, I’ll tater tot you Got an FN, aim at your tater partner Ain’t none of my guns got safety partner Got a young nigga kill somethin’ for eighty dollars Hop in that water, no safety goggles They’ll kidnap the kids and rape his mama I swear my niggas they takin’ somethin’
[Trapboy Freddy:] Ain’t cuffin’ no bitch, ain’t no Ferragamo Shootin’, no stoppin’, don’t spare his mama I got a play on a hundred bales You get nothin’, call it show and tell We was young, tryna sell them L’s I ain’t even know how to work the scale I sell them bricks by the O’s Still got my wrist in the bowl
[Yella Beezy:] Can’t mix in the Cliff without us Nigga fuck around, get touched, ayy Load up the clip and then bust, ayy Feelin’ some adrenaline rush, ayy Big bullets flip over trucks, ayy Bitch let me get in them guts, ayy Coolin’, just sippin’ my cup Tell me if you feel me or what
[Trapboy Freddy:] I’m in the Cliff eatin’ chicken My favorite spot is the kitchen I drop a bag, get you missin’ I ain’t with fake shit period I got an F&N with a scope Red dot like a period Thirty shot hangin’ up out of the Glock Put a hole in you like cereal
[Yella Beezy:] You niggas is pussy like period Can’t fuck with you ho niggas period Bought three hundred thousand in jewelry Don’t me a stylist, bitch clearly Don’t like when people talk nigga when I talk So you pussies gotta hear me I’ma spaz out, yeah surely, ayy Fake boys can’t stand near me
[Trapboy Freddy & Yella Beezy:] Who run the city, be serious Me and you, get serious Still will put a P in a syrup Nigga crackin’ out without a deal Yella I heard they was lookin’ for you Shit where they at nigga? I ain’t runnin’ I just seen ’em on the ‘Gram, post a location Wait, I’m finna send it to you I ain’t trippin’, niggas always slippin’ Swear to God they some silly somethin’ Give my lil homie a couple hundreds He a demon, they can’t hide from him We been ridin’ Friday from Friday Swear to God they hidin’ from us
[Trapboy Freddy:] Man where the fuck is you at nigga? Let’s get it, Trap Wrist up in the bowl shit That’s on me baby O Cliff band man, tellin’ these band niggas who run it What’s poppin’, yeah, yeah