lirik lagu hurricane chris – to the money
(intro)
drumma boy
51:50
bwa
hurricane
gates
[verse 1: hurricane chris]
fully automatic in the trunk
took it outta trunk put it on the backseat
starin’ at a flat-line
one o’ these n-gg-s gonna catch me a case
but it’s gon’ get beat
ridin’ through the city with the top down
like what now? ye ain’t really want no beef
that .223 got a whole lotta shots
runnin’ off at the mouth, and yo body gon’ leak
black ski mask, and n-body gon’ see my face
lo key, b-tch, you dealin’ with a g
f-ck hangin’ out a window
when i walk up on a n-gg- close range
bang bang and it’s what it’s gonna be
hit you with a chain gang, just anotha n-gg- dead
laid down face first in the middle of the street
now ye ain’t really bout that, find out where yo house at
come through, let off with that heat, gone!
[hook: gates]
fall out in a party, said ain’t no need for talkin’
bad model walkin’, -ss like a horsie
all my cars are f-ckin’, promethazine pourin’
shawty out the body on a molly while i’m snoring
all the gold bottles get water, all the hoe ballers be on us
might crack a smile, but it ain’t sh-t funny
if ye ain’t talk about us, you ain’t talk about nothin’
runnin’, runnin’ to the money
runnin’, runnin’ to the money
runnin’, runnin’ to the money runnin’, runnin’ to the money
[verse 2: kevin gates]
running from a bullet, but it got yo name on it
want a n-gg- brain? i could drop change on it
i’m built on loyalty and won’t change on it
oughta be a lawyer fee, got ’em on retain
thanks to the d game, i was in the street game
waitin’ for the rap game, crack game crept out
f-ckin’ in the trap house, wrecked out
bad b-tch on the floor, body so f-ckin’ that she tapped out
bought a brick, broke it down so backs out
half of the rock in the shoe, stackhouse
now they tellin’ me the game i should backout
same n-gg- let me in the gout with my back out
i spit ’em down, rockin’ a frown
bullet in my leg got me hoppin’ around
in a wheelchair as a wobble around
held up at the block, start lockin’ it down
now i run the town!
[hook: gates]
fall out in a party, said ain’t no need for talkin’
bad model walkin’, -ss like a horsie
all my cars are f-ckin’, promethazine pourin’
shawty out the body on a molly while i’m snoring
all the gold bottles get water, all the hoe ballers be on us
might crack a smile, but it ain’t sh-t funny
if ye ain’t talk about us, you ain’t talk about nothin’
runnin’, runnin’ to the money
runnin’, runnin’ to the money
runnin’, runnin’ to the money runnin’, runnin’ to the money
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