CORRECT LYRICS

Lyrics : Still Runnin

(KJ, what you got goin' on man? Let's go, let's go, yeah)
Back of the Phantom to get me some head
Ain't got no purple? Then get me some red (Yeah, woo)
(Yo, Nick Papz, make it slap)

N***a know I back out every time the pack out, big boy straighten up offenders
I was in the trap house, chillin' with the Mac out, gang gang, me and my members (Gang gang)
N***a, we ain't totin' no sticks 'round here, just glicks 'round here with extenders (Big boy)
N***a, don't take no pics 'round here, everybody on parole, sh*t sensitive
I got the check, fell in love with it
I got the neck, for the hell of it
Money, respect, get a Cullinan
Come to the lil' block like an elephant
I got the lil' Glock with a drum in it
We the ones, they the ones cracking
Now forty-five-hundred my jacket, they say I'm too rich to be strapping, yeah, ooh
Suicide doors on the Phantom, it look like you gettin' in backwards
Double platinum, that's a double murder when we slide, I just put a hit on a rapper
Sneak dissin', 'fore you know it, you talkin' to God, and he tell you, "Get in the casket" (N***a, get over there)
Stack the M's and spin all the odds, we takin' this sh*t to the maximum, yeah

Must be out of your mind, you think we ain't spinnin' for bro? (Gang) We spinnin' fo' sho'
Had a switch on me, not a .38, dummy, boy, we be spinnin' for ghosts (Gang)
They put up for shows, we spinnin' the cribs and traps fo' sho', we spinnin' his shows
And we took L's fo' sho', but in Chicago, they know we winnin' fo' sho'
You do it for what? You better not say that you do it for D- (Boom), them n***as be tucked
That n***a was f**ked, the moment he ran and he knew he ain't duckin', his a** out of luck
We do it for Von, we don't wait 'til it die down, we load and we do it tomorrow
We do it on feet, ask all the opps about us, and who say we shoot out the cars
That Rolls better be bulletproof, lil' n***a, you know we gon' shoot at them stars
Them lil' b*t*hes ours, I told him to f**k her and sl*t her and send her right back to the blogs
Glock with a switch, two of those, and I ride through the city (We ride)
And we thought a n***a died, but he didn't (But he died)
Two Glocks when you ride through Philly (Let's get it)
Tinted up if you dyin' in Philly
(You know we slide to Philly)
(Tinted up if you dyin' in Philly)
(Tinted up if you dyin' in Philly)
(Yeah, Baby)
Anything close to a dub, and a youngin'll walk for a hundred, he damn near get caught
Long as I send him the items, consider it bought
I call the shots, I'm the boss
I'm ridin' with the semi
Two of them, I can't die in my city
Do a shooting, it ain't gotta be pretty
Catch him out, and we handle the business
I ain't gettin' in no n***a business
Thirty million, my mind in the trenches still
F**k her good, make her n***a not turn her on
They got brodie on camera, he comin' home
Run it up from a scale to a microphone
Treat Dior like a muhf**kin' Nike store
And you know he ain't that, why you hype him up?
Any time we have smoke, it's just pipe me up
Never know the outcome 'til you try your luck
Get whatever you want when I'm tryna f**k
And we tellin' nobody, can't f**k with us
Put the four in the P with the f**kin' F
I should never bring the pain on my f**kin' self
Really need it if I ever ask for help
I just know I'ma blow if it's life or death
I made all them hoes drink, never left
I'm way higher, I'm up in my alt**ude
I was broke, I woke up with an att**ude
Now you play with the kid, he embarra** you
I jump right in the field with no parachute and one pair of shoes