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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Cappadonna
Cappadonna
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Darryl Hill
Darryl Hill
Composer
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
RZA
RZA
Mixing Engineer
The Wu Elements "for Wu -Tang Productions"
The Wu Elements "for Wu -Tang Productions"
Producer
Mitchell Diggs
Mitchell Diggs
Executive Producer
Ghostface Killah
Ghostface Killah
Executive Producer
Oli Grant
Oli Grant
Executive Producer
Nolan " Dr. No" Moffitte
Nolan " Dr. No" Moffitte
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Crack backs heavy on the cash all night At the drug site we hung tight Three o'clock in the night ounces of coke dirty kicks Money gets low in the street yo Tough times nickels thats bigger than dimes, you know the flavor Ruff neck city ain't nothin sweet kid ain't nothin pretty New York be poppin' the cork on crime look at the nine Summertime in the court house oh, shit whats mine Two to four three to nine benatoned it what We all ran coke grams, you outta luck Young bucks carrying gats, stay fat for what We all slipped through the po-nig nobody bust Freeze, we in the breeze with the blunts Nobody drop the trees or they fronts Meet on the roof look off the front play low Watch out for po-po thats how it go Three in the whip, we not lag it though, run for the gusto Peep Marcel and Brown comin' around dippin' the logo Run if you ever got somethin' on you son You best a run, be off the set, bounce on the projects Cease another vick, weed in your piss and parole gotsta have it Slide like a rabbit move quick this is it Hang jump from the fire escape, I made it Drop the clip fingerprints all on it, ah fuck those bullets I'm losin' my pants, I advance in my speed, succeed in my travel Dance on 'em, and I fucked up whip, make my heart skip Caught up in the drug traffic I astounded surrounded by the outfit One twentieth tried to knock my whole click Run! These black boys that take none Don't cop out the shit, take the three six and you add that shit Run! If you ever pack a nice size gun Run! If you sell drugs to your dun Run! Be the fuck out word God run hard Between two cars we park, pepper got sparked In the dark heads scramble at the six ooh Spy's lookin' at you one two lookin' too How you roll what you stole let me see you Nah fuck you, if you wasn't a cop I might bust you, I don't trust you Coppers lust over my crew, forget a curfew We gather in the plaza to jerk through Three sixty with the crime waves modern day slave First one to peel, it's not real Plant that as a matter of fact we crack 'em down Us against brown, run fast like you ran track Never look back push the Acc on the sidewalk Crash, toss the heat and tear ass Zig zag till you reach your stash Run! If you sell drugs to your dun Run! Be the fuck out word to God run hard Me and the God back to back one eighty five With the four five survive that shit You just came even though I remember your face Even though I seen you rollin' there bowlin' in green kid This cream will get you rocked, knocked if you don't run Don't grab my jacket don't get the fuck off, break north Or go to jail, word life is strife, on the block it's too hot You got my man shot, nigga run We wylin on Staten Island it's one thing bein' in the bing And not smilin' on the gate it's too late Fate held you over, jakes runnin' for snakes The white rover, with the plates burn down Gee street Comin' from outta state, see me in the drivers seat Coolin' without the I.D., it's not me Babylon to the God, D I V I N E Run! If you sell drugs to the dun Run! If you pack a nice size gun Run! If you want to still have fun Run! Be the fuck out word God run hard Motherfucker Run motherfucker run
Writer(s): Robert F. Diggs, Darryl Robert Hill Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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