Road Runners

[Mr. Fool Up] Yea, we got Zaytoven on the muthafuckin' beat (Zay-tiggy) Young Scooter, Killa Skip, me myself (who that is?) It's yo boy, Mr. Fool Up Shoutout to all my muthafuckin road runners out there, though We be runnin' the mu'fuckin streets, dough All we know is grindin and that's how we is [Verse 1: Young Scooter] My cellphone ringing yea I know the number (naw) Last thing I heard nigga was an informer (he were) Shot a text to my phone like he need two (damn) Tell em what 'chu want, nigga, I ain't served you (naw) When you get street money, that's what you go through (tax-free) I got bricks too (bricks), you know what I do (yea) Rest in peace, and Phatty, (Boosie?) beat his case Phatt told me 'fore he died my music make em take it They grindin in the truck, and it's alot of {cake?} (salute) Dead presidents equal murder cases (yea) That's if you in the streets, em niggas ain't playin' (uh-uh) It takes a whole lot to be a Bossman! [Hook: Mr Fool Up and crew] We some Road Runners (yea), We stay runnin' all the time On the road doing shows, then it's right back to the grind We still busy, nigga (yea), chasing after doller signs Aww, this {judge?] makin my money multiply, everyday we countin' up 5's, 10's, 20's, 50's and them 100's (count it out) Break down sales, (like?) we're print money, (count it out) It takes a lot to be a boss in the streets I'm countin' money, even when I go to sleep Everyday I'm counting up [Verse 2: Mr Fool Up] I live a crazy life, everyday my schedule be so hectic I wake up thinkin' 'bout money so I go out there and get it There's plenty of ways to get paid, so I always keep a mission That's the end of limelight, cause too many niggas be snitchin' Jail bars and fences, I ain't trying to live that way So I buzz a war on myself, now I'm quarterback in all my plays All you Wile E. Coyotes can stay the fuck from out my way If the conversation ain't 'bout money, then I ain't got nothin to say Hard work, no play, that's my attitude everyday I hit the block so aggressive cause I'm in love with big faces Run them streets like we racist, instead of punchin' the clock The only nine to five I know is to serve the whole block [Hook] [Verse 3: Killa Skip] I'm running that road I'm a bread runner Straight trafficking work with a headhunter Got 5% take for the sled sucker That sack in the trunk that's Fed numbers Keep iron on my lap I'm a lead dumper Sneak dissing my trap I'll redrum ya Heart puncture, lung puncture, dome shot ya, head lump ya Petty-ass niggas I call 'em losers I rock with niggas who make maneuvers Entrepreneurs, distributors, like Fool Up and Young Scooter You want that work I'll get it to ya My coke stepped on like horse manure Ain't have my money then you that shoot up I lift my tool up, your pushing tulips I'm a gat packer, manufacture, stack junkie, money maniac, uh Boss, that nigga talk shit to crackers Better check your ho, cause I'm a bitch slap 'er Better hide your child, I'm a kidnap 'em You'll get em right back when you pay the ransom Double stock from Lou keep a nigga handsome When its time to chicken up Killa Skip the man, son [Hook]