Cunninlynguists Running Wild Lyrics

Everybody running wild, yeah
What the f*ck is goin' on?
Well I know, well I know, well I know
So many baby mamas around we are all some motherf*ckers
Surf's up but it ain’t on some motherf*cker
Most kingpin rappers is also undercover
Sleeping with the enemy on some under covers
Tide rolled in, bread so thin
Gotta keep corn on me like Thanksgiving
Still smoking, like the barrel of young ones
With big guns that will face grown men
Got guts 'till they see their stomach lining
I’m not fishing for compliments but keep a line in
Seeing the world like Jack with an axe
Peeking through the door towards the end of The Shining
Robbing and rhyming is my drug
Not only the block but the microphone I hug
Tsunami flow, suckers act like they don’t know
But there will never be another MC like me 'till 5004
There will never be an MC like you 'till 5004? (Yup)
I rap like none of these rappers on earth, I’m not your average Joe
Space age pimpin' first verse now they have to protect the ho
All the way winos, trips and players in front the liquor store
Altercations and drama, riding around with them Lamas
Growing up in the ghetto where kids sell dope to their mamas
Bullet shells echo, men dead in the alley It took nine hours for the coroner to come and pick up the body
Say what I’ve seen, night time dream
(Evidence) that my life is serene
But the world don’t turn off evil regimes
Men will earn, getting burned for cream
It’s the same dots behind clouds and raindrops
Suns explode with rays of stray shots
It’s like drive-by murder when it stays hot
They shot the ground and grazed the grey lots
Grey box, same two-three steppin'
Blue jeans, blue hat, I need a weapon
Who’s next to play the execution of a chump?
When the shit go down we’ll see who choose to jump
Hey, can feel my hairs rise from the tension
On gentrified drive, you can smell the intent
I think the streets on fire with the engine
As the world burns let me turn to my incense
A nigga can’t sleep, they doing housecalls
All in the streets people living like outlaws
Listen to the fault line, you can hear the ground talk
'Till the clouds fall fear rains like drought’s off
Under the city lights, within shadows
Many men sling ground-stained Amaretto
Loud screams drowning out the whistle from the kettles
You can’t run from it, keep bringing you the ghetto