Who Run It (G Herbo Remix)

[Yella Beezy:]
Who the fuck these niggas talking shit?
Nigga talking like I ain't from the Cliff or something
Like a young nigga won't send a hit or something
Like I won't feed dick to your bitch or something
Young nigga it's EA Sports, yeah it's all in the game
Fuck around and get blitzed or something
Nigga gotta know I ain't really with the bumping
Nigga get to bumping we gon' get to dumping

[Trapboy Freddy:]
Nigga be talking about all this rap shit like a nigga won't flip a brick or something
Tuck your chain, you a lick or something
Real murderers, come look us up
I ain't with none of that rap shit, and I don't care who the hottest
And I don't talk about murders when I rap 'cause we be really catching bodies

[Yella Beezy:]
Nigga swear to God never rode a Harley but I swear young nigga I keep a chopper
Nigga walk through with a loaded AK with an infra beam, about three binoculars
I do the money dance and you a funny man, keep talking, lil boy you gon' need a doctor
One of my people gon' sleep his partner
Old sixty ass nigga got to people watching

[Trapboy Freddy:]
Four of Hi-Tech in the baby bottle
Broke in my house but my neighbor popped him
What you say? speak louder nigga
Hey, I got on hater blockers
No I do not hear no haters talking
Balenciaga when a nigga walking
I been running shit since a youngin bitch
Now that money got a nigga jogging

[Yella Beezy:]
Hey, I don't hear haters talking
Small brown nigga, 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 nigga kill something for eighty dollars
Hop in that water, no safety goggles
They'll kidnap the kids and rape his mama
I swear my niggas they taking something

[Trapboy Freddy:]
Ain't cuffing no bitch, ain't no Ferragamo
Shooting, no stopping, don't spare his mama
I got a play on a hundred bales
You get nothing, 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

[Yella Beezy:]
Can't mix in the Cliff without us
Nigga fuck around, get touched, ayy
Load up the clip and then bust, ayy
Feeling some adrenaline rush, ayy
Big bullets flip over trucks, ayy
Bitch let me get in them guts, ayy
Cooling, just sipping my cup
Tell me if you feel me or what

[Trapboy Freddy:]
I'm in the Cliff eating chicken
My favorite spot is the kitchen
I drop a bag, get you missing
I ain't with fake shit period
I got an F&N with a scope
Red dot like a period
Thirty shot hanging up out of the Glock
Put a hole in you like cereal

[Yella Beezy:]
You niggas is pussy like period
Can't fuck with you ho niggas period
Bought three hundred thousand in jewelry
Don't me a stylist, bitch clearly
Don't like when people talk nigga when I talk
So you pussies gotta hear me
I'ma spaz out, yeah surely, ayy
Fake boys can't stand near me

[Trapboy Freddy & Yella Beezy:]
Who run the city, be serious
Me and you, get serious
Still will put a P in a syrup
Nigga cracking out without a deal
Yella I heard they was looking for you
Shit where they at nigga? I ain't running
I just seen 'em on the 'Gram, post a location
Wait, I'm finna send it to you
I ain't tripping, niggas always slipping
Swear to God they some silly something
Give my lil homie a couple hundreds
He a demon, they can't hide from him
We been riding Friday from Friday
Swear to God they hiding from us

[Trapboy Freddy:]
Man where the fuck is you at nigga?
Let's get it, Trap
Wrist up in the bowl shit
That's on me baby
O Cliff band man, telling these band niggas who run it
What's popping, yeah, yeah