Who Run It lyrics

[Verse 1: Yella Beezy]
Who the f*ck these n*ggas talkin' sh*t?
n*gga talkin' like I ain't from the Cliff or somethin'
Like a young n*gga won't send a hit or somethin'
Like I won't feed di*k to your b*tch or somethin'
Young n*gga it's EA Sports, yeah it's all in the game
f*ck around and get blitzed or somethin'
n*gga gotta know I ain't really with the bumpin'
n*gga get to bumpin' we gon' get to dumpin'

[Verse 2: Trapboy Freddy]
n*gga be talkin' about all this rap sh*t like a n*gga 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 sh*t, and I don't care who the hottest
And I don't talk about murders when I rap 'cause we be really catchin' bodies

[Verse 3: Yella Beezy]
n*gga swear to God never rode a Harley but I swear young n*gga I keep a chopper
n*gga 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 n*gga got to people watchin'

[Verse 4: Trapboy Freddy]
Four of Hi-Tech in the baby bottle
Broke in my house but my neighbor popped him
What you say? speak louder n*gga
Hey, I got on hater blockers
No I do not hear no haters talkin'
Balenciaga when a n*gga walkin'
I been runnin' sh*t since a youngin b*tch
Now that money got a n*gga joggin'
[Verse 5: Yella Beezy]
Hey, I don't hear haters talkin'
Small brown n*gga, 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 n*gga kill somethin' for eighty dollars
Hop in that water, no safety goggles
They'll kidnap the kids and rape his mama
I swear my n*ggas they takin' somethin'

[Verse 6: Trapboy Freddy]
Ain't cuffin' no b*tch, 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

[Verse 7: Yella Beezy]
Can't mix in the Cliff without us
n*gga f*ck around, get touched, ayy
Load up the clip and then bust, ayy
Feelin' some adrenaline rush, ayy
Big bullets flip over trucks, ayy
b*tch let me get in them guts, ayy
Coolin', just sippin' my cup
Tell me if you feel me or what
[Verse 8: 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 sh*t 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

[Verse 9: Yella Beezy]
You n*ggas is pus*y like period
Can't f*ck with you ho n*ggas period
Bought three hundred thousand in jewelry
Don't me a stylist, b*tch clearly
Don't like when people talk n*gga when I talk
So you pussies gotta hear me
I'ma spaz out, yeah surely, ayy
Fake boys can't stand near me

[Verse 10: Trapboy Freddy & Yella Beezy]
Who run the city, be serious
Me and you, get serious
Still will put a P in a syrup
n*gga crackin' out without a deal
Yella I heard they was lookin' for you
sh*t where they at n*gga? 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', n*ggas 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
[Outro: Trapboy Freddy]
Man where the f*ck is you at n*gga?
Let's get it, Trap
Wrist up in the bowl sh*t
That's on me baby
O Cliff band man, tellin' these band n*ggas who run it
What's poppin', yeah, yeah