Released: March 24, 1998
Songwriter: RZA Cappadonna
Producer: RZA
[Intro: Sample]
"'Where you going? Aren't you scared we'll get you?'
'Look for me all you want—you're not gonna find me though.'"
[Verse 1]
Crack backs heavy on the cash all night
At the drug site we hung tight
Three o'clock in the night ounces of blow dirty kicks
Money gets low in the street yo
Tough times nickles that's bigger than dimes
You know the flavor
Roughneck city; ain't nuttin sweet kid ain't nothin pretty
New York be poppin the cork on crime look at the nine
Summertime in the courthouse, aw shit it wasn't mine
Two to four, three to nine, Benetton'd it what
We all ran, fuck grams, you outta luck
Young bucks carrying gats, stay strapped for what
We all safe from the po-lig, nobody bust
FREEZE! We in the breeze with the blunts
Nobody drop the trees or they fronts
Meet up on the roof, look off the front, play low
Watch out for po'-po', that's how it go, three in the whip
We not that legit though, run for the gusto
Peep Marcel and Brown comin around dippin' the logo
Run if you ever got somethin' on you son
You best to run, be off the set
Jet, bounce from the projects, season of the vick
Weed in your piss and parole gots ta have it
Slide like a rabbit move quick this is it
Hang jump from the fire escape, I made it
Drop the clip fingerprints all on it
Aw fuck those bullets, I'm losin my pants
I advance my speed, succeed in my travel
Dance on 'em, in a fucked up whip
Make my heart skip, caught up in the drug traffic
I absconded, surrounded by the outfit
120th tried to knock my whole clique
Run! These black boys that take none
Don't cop out to shit, take the three to six
And you add that shit—run!
If you ever pack a nice sized gun—run!
If you sell drugs till your done—run!
Be the fuck out! Word to God, run hard
[Verse 2]
Between two cars we park, pepper got sparked
In the dark heads scramble at the six-ooh
Spies lookin at you one two oh lookin too
How you roll what you stole let me see you go nah fuck you
If you wasn't a cop I might bust you, I don't trust you
Coppers lust over my crew, forget a curfew
We gather in the plaza to jerk through
360 with the crime wave, modern day slave
Reversal on appeal, it's not real, plant that
As a matter of fact we crackin down, us against Brown
Run fast like you ran track
Never look back push the Ac' on the sidewalk
Crash, toss the heat and tear ass
Zig zag 'til you reach your stash—run!
If you sell drugs till your done—run!
Be the fuck out! Word to God, run hard
Me and the God back to back one eight-five with the four-five
Survive that shit, you took case, even though I remember your face
Even though we seen you rollin near Bowling and Greene kid
This cream'll get you robbed, knocked if you don't run
Don't grab my jacket dunn, get the fuck off, break North or go to jail
Word life is trife, on the block it's too hot
You got my man shot, nigga—run!
We whylin on Staten Island, it's one thing bein in the bing
And not smilin on the gate, it's too late
Fate held you over, Jakes runnin for snakes
The white rover with the plates burn down Gee street
Comin from outta state, see me in the driver's seat
Coolin without the ID, it's not me
That belongs to the god, D-I-V-I-N-E—run!
If you sell drugs till they done—run!
If you ever pack a nice-sized gun—run!
If you wanna still have fun—run!
Be the fuck out! Word to God, run hard... motherfucker
[Outro]
Run, motherfucker, run
"'Where you going? Aren't you scared we'll get you?'
'Look for me all you want—you're not gonna find me though.'"
[Verse 1]
Crack backs heavy on the cash all night
At the drug site we hung tight
Three o'clock in the night ounces of blow dirty kicks
Money gets low in the street yo
Tough times nickles that's bigger than dimes
You know the flavor
Roughneck city; ain't nuttin sweet kid ain't nothin pretty
New York be poppin the cork on crime look at the nine
Summertime in the courthouse, aw shit it wasn't mine
Two to four, three to nine, Benetton'd it what
We all ran, fuck grams, you outta luck
Young bucks carrying gats, stay strapped for what
We all safe from the po-lig, nobody bust
FREEZE! We in the breeze with the blunts
Nobody drop the trees or they fronts
Meet up on the roof, look off the front, play low
Watch out for po'-po', that's how it go, three in the whip
We not that legit though, run for the gusto
Peep Marcel and Brown comin around dippin' the logo
Run if you ever got somethin' on you son
You best to run, be off the set
Jet, bounce from the projects, season of the vick
Weed in your piss and parole gots ta have it
Slide like a rabbit move quick this is it
Hang jump from the fire escape, I made it
Drop the clip fingerprints all on it
Aw fuck those bullets, I'm losin my pants
I advance my speed, succeed in my travel
Dance on 'em, in a fucked up whip
Make my heart skip, caught up in the drug traffic
I absconded, surrounded by the outfit
120th tried to knock my whole clique
Run! These black boys that take none
Don't cop out to shit, take the three to six
And you add that shit—run!
If you ever pack a nice sized gun—run!
If you sell drugs till your done—run!
Be the fuck out! Word to God, run hard
[Verse 2]
Between two cars we park, pepper got sparked
In the dark heads scramble at the six-ooh
Spies lookin at you one two oh lookin too
How you roll what you stole let me see you go nah fuck you
If you wasn't a cop I might bust you, I don't trust you
Coppers lust over my crew, forget a curfew
We gather in the plaza to jerk through
360 with the crime wave, modern day slave
Reversal on appeal, it's not real, plant that
As a matter of fact we crackin down, us against Brown
Run fast like you ran track
Never look back push the Ac' on the sidewalk
Crash, toss the heat and tear ass
Zig zag 'til you reach your stash—run!
If you sell drugs till your done—run!
Be the fuck out! Word to God, run hard
Me and the God back to back one eight-five with the four-five
Survive that shit, you took case, even though I remember your face
Even though we seen you rollin near Bowling and Greene kid
This cream'll get you robbed, knocked if you don't run
Don't grab my jacket dunn, get the fuck off, break North or go to jail
Word life is trife, on the block it's too hot
You got my man shot, nigga—run!
We whylin on Staten Island, it's one thing bein in the bing
And not smilin on the gate, it's too late
Fate held you over, Jakes runnin for snakes
The white rover with the plates burn down Gee street
Comin from outta state, see me in the driver's seat
Coolin without the ID, it's not me
That belongs to the god, D-I-V-I-N-E—run!
If you sell drugs till they done—run!
If you ever pack a nice-sized gun—run!
If you wanna still have fun—run!
Be the fuck out! Word to God, run hard... motherfucker
[Outro]
Run, motherfucker, run