Chris Crack – Run My Fade lyrics

[Verse 1: Chris Crack]
Do a hundred with a runny nose
I ain’t fucking with the funny face
I’m still juking off the Motorola, getting zooted
People still ride with they shooters
I do do do do my own shooting
I’m not into losing and I don’t be cruising around
Looking for hoes, I be getting this money, I do this
Busting not knowing who to trust and I don’t wanna die alone
Get me something, nigga ones with the crust
And all this twerking is a must, knocking dicks in the dust
Let me poet, fourth quarter I’m Jordan, I don’t think they heard me
Fourth quarter I’m Jordan, push it bitch, I was up in Sam Goodie
For the music, whipping up the pudding with the Huxtables
Dozens of the burners in the closet, they ain’t finna stop me
Shit I just passed through the lobby, I just do this for a hobby
Smoking strong like your body build
I ain’t even into exes but I’m popping pills
I’m finna kill ‘em like I got a deal
Me and Cutta been doing this a lot of years
If you get knocked by the people don’t call it crill
I pull up to your house where your daughter live bitch

[Verse 2: Nate Barksdale]
I still ride through the city with my seat back
Something thick to my ride
Bitch it’s no deal if you’re trying to defeat that
You can meet me outside
Never let ‘em know what you running
Bitch better know how I’m coming
All I ever wanted was some money, go ill on my stomach
Check twenty-two with the muffin, ’Cause I want it all
Bitch it’s no deal, have me standing way in front of y’all
I killed the competition, didn’t draw my gun at all
Aw skeet skeet, now these pretty bitches wanna crawl
Took her to this [?] now I’m ‘bout to make her feel it all
Bad shawty looked like Janet, shawty got me acting up mannish
But it still smooth like Spanish, and I think she speak a different language

[Verse 3: Chris Crack]
And we shaking this bitch
And we dropping this music
Til they know my name
Until they know my name
You best know my game
I’m talking they flame

[Verse 4: Nate Barksdale]
Packing up my suitcase, boots laced
‘Bout to leave these two-faced fucks in the dirt
‘Bout to hit ‘em where I know it hurts
Blood stains on my shirt, pulling off on the plug
With the work, yeah

[Verse 5: Nate Barksdale]
You’re all talk but you’re not about that action
What I make, you only make a fraction
Shit you know about, got it with a passion
Shit you know about, gotta make it happen

[Verse 6: Chris Crack
Keep my name out your mouth or it’s static
Shoelace on the tec, automatic
Keep a hipster girl, I want a bad bitch
Spit fire on them tracks, [?]
Now she keep sending me then sad pics
I don’t plan on ever getting married
From Chicago so you know I was a savage
Bg joints nigga, I ain’t finna pass it
I ain’t finna pass it