Lil Baby, Lil Durk & Meek Mill Lyrics – Still Runnin Lyrics

Still Runnin

(KJ what you got goin’ on man)

Back of the phantom to get me side head
Ain’t got no purple then give me some red, yeah

(Yo Nick Papz, make it slap)

Nigga know I back out every time the pack out, big boy scrapin’ up fenders
I was in the trap house chillin’ with the Mac out, gang gang, me and my members
Nigga, we ain’t totin’ no sticks ’round here, just Glicks ’round here with extenders
Nigga, don’t take no pics ’round here everybody on parole shit censored
I got a check, fell in love with it
I got the neck for the hell of it
Money, respect, get the Cullinan
Come down the lil’ block like a elephant
I got the lil’ Glock with the drum in it
We don’t want them to know what’s crackin’
I 4500 my jacket, they say I’m too rich to be strappin’, yeah
Suicide doors in the Phantom, it looks like you get in it backwards
Double platinum, that’s a double murder when we slide, I just put a hit on a rapper
Sneak dissin’, before you know it you talkin’ to God, and he tell you get in the casket
Stack up the M’s and spend all the odds, we takin’ this shit to the maximum, yeah

Must be outta your mind, you think we ain’t spinnin’ for bro, we spinnin’ for sho
Had a switch on me not a thirty-eight dummy, but we be spinnin’ for ghost
They pull up for sho, we spinnin’ the cribs and traps for sho
We spinnin’ his shows and we took Ls for sho
But in Chicago they know we winnin’ for sho
You do it for what, better not say that you do it for ****
Them niggas be tucked, that nigga was fucked
That moment he ran and he knew he ain’t duck and his ass out of luck
We do it for Von, we don’t wait till it die down, we load up we do it tomorrow
We do it on feet, ask all the opps about us or who say we shoot out the cars
That Rolls better be bulletproof little nigga, you know we gon’ shoot out them stars
Them little bitches Za, I told ’em to fuck her and slut her and send her right back to the block
Glock on switches
Two of those when I ride through the city
And we thought a nigga died but he didn’t
Two Glocks when you ride through Philly
Turnin’ up if you die in Philly
Turnin’ up if you die in Philly
Turnin’ up if you die in Philly

Anything close to a dub and a young nigga walk for a hundred, he damn near get caught
Long as I send him the items, consider it bought
I call the shots on the boss
I’m ridin’ with a semi
Two of them, I can’t die in my city
Do a shootin’, it ain’t gotta be pretty
Catch him out and we handle the business
I ain’t gettin’ in no nigga business
Thirty million my mind in the trenches still
Fuck her good make a nigga not turn her out
They got Brody on camera, he comin’ home
Run it up from a scale to a microphone
Treat these hoes likes a motherfuckin’ Nike store
And you know he ain’t there, why you hype him up?
Anytime we out smokin’, just pipe me up
Never know the outcome so you try yo luck
Get whateva you want when I’m tryna fuck
Don’t be tellin’, nobody can’t fuck with us
Put the fo’ in the pew with the fuckin’
I should never depend on my fuckin’ self
Really need it if I ever ask for help
I just know I’ma blow if it’s life or death
I made all them hoes, you ain’t never left
I’m way higher, I’m up in my altitude
I was broke, I would go in an attitude
Now you play with the kid, he embarrass you
As a rider, no fear with no parachute
With no parachute

Still Runnin Lyrics