Songtext zu 'Runnin' Da Red' von Big Pokey

[Big Pokey:]
What type of nigga eat, and don't get full
I'm half gator, half dog I'm a crock bull
With a appetite, if I snap tonight
I'ma knock a bitch head, in his lap tonight
I'm strapped tonight, extra clip in the glove
Under the shotgun slugs, and a throw away snub
When my pressure swell, niggaz never live to tell
That they jumped in the water, with a killer whale
That's deep homes, I'm bout to get my eat on
Until a son of a bitch head, and his feet gone
A mob nigga mask up, and get his creep on
And make sho', that that hoe ass nigga sleep long
Chiropractor, I pop niggaz backs
My hand size Mack, unlock six packs
That's that back-back, move around dog
Watch that crack back, you around hogs nigga

[Hook x2:]
If you see me with my heat, I got one in the head
If you see me on the creep, I'm running the reds
If my work ain't right, I'ma put one in his dreads
One in his neck two in his chest, stomach and legs

[Killa Kyleon:]
Kick in your do', while you sipping a fo and you hitting the dro
That hoe that's licking you low, she's hitting the flo'
Better go to your safe, and be getting the do'
Or them tires in your garage, and be getting the snow
I thought you had work, it look like you been sniffing your snow
That's when I'm lifting a fo', now he stiff in the snow
And if that broad try to run, I'ma put six in that hoe
Merck everybody in the vicinity, in case witnesses know
Hop in the six and let's go, supply the licks at the sto'
But make sho' that this blow kick do', at a continuous flow
Better not be short on my work, or my Benjamin's bro
Or your body'll get a permanent, injuring bro
Bullets go in niggaz fast, they ain't entering slow
On your knees you begging your please, surrendering hoe
I'm M-O-B-S-T-Y-L-E
Got a lick for a ki', just make sure you contact me

[Hook x2]

[Grimm Rea:]
You wanna play nigga, you better find somebody
Or a whiteboy'll be jogging, and find somebody
It stay personal with me, cause I live off respect
You in this game playing foul, now I'ma give you a tech
Not only your shirt wet, I'ma flood the block
You speaking on niggaz I eat with, get you dressed in a box
And I don't care, if you hate it or love it
Stone till I'm gone, nigga and I swear while I'm here I'ma thug it
Only got one to live, so I'm go all out
You cross the wrong niggaz, therefore we fall out
Don't try running in your house, I'll blow your do' all out
44-Mag, the reason that they bagged his body
Your partnas don't care, they don't even ask about him
Didn't know stupid nigga, you should of asked somebody

[Hook x2]

[D-1:]
I'm running in your house, and I'm hitting your safe
Any problems, the 4-4 hitting your face
Act like a asshole, and get a split in your face
You kept talking, when I told you get in your place
Now this SK got your soul, living in space
If you ain't walking, then how you gon get in the race
Been doing dirt twenty years, without getting a case
And I don't care about your niggaz, let 'em try to hurt me
Get they wig pushed back, like Calvin Murphy
I'm the kid balling, but I don't play for Jersey
Pushing a Prowler, painted like a purple slurpee
And I got what you need, from quarters to turkeys
I'm with the Mob mo'fucker, don't leave me out
I stay balling, even when the season out
A young nigga that lay low, and love to bleed in droughts
A dope game quarterback, I just feed the routes

[Hook x2]