[Verse 1]
Choppas on choppas
On choppas my foldin’
Stock poppin’ bitch really I’m on
Name ringin bells I be hoppin’
Off Jets boy you can call me
Young Laveon
Chalk ‘em I chalk ‘em
And turn his hood red zone
The safety is off and I’m strong
My venom my downfall
I try to control it
But really it’s like Megatron
Send you upstairs like a bad call
Boy put the strap down
And get rag-dolled
Yea 28 gang boy stand tall
You can ask the jailhouse
‘bout Avatar
Finna sign young hitta
Got cap space
Pull up on ‘em broad day
No cap face
Boys try pull me over
It’s a drag race vroom
Whipping offwhite
Like its mayonnaise ewww
[Chorus]
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race to the bag
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race to the bag
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the racе
Bitch I do the race
Bitch I do the racе to the bag

[Verse 2]
Bitch I’m the joogeyman
Hunnid on top of the cookin’ pan
Fuck her to sleep
Like she took a xan
Grabbin’ dem cheeks
Like a hook in hand
That pussy sweeter
Than sugar flan
I roll out and roll up
That cookie brand
I cut through the beef
Like a butcher can
You can bet that
Like a bookie can
Shout out my hood it
Was zombie land
Turn your ass ghost
Like you Tommy’s man
Hoppin’ out that soccer
Mommy van
Heard that boy singin’
Like Shotti’s man
I’m on the turf with the Bobby B
Might knock a hutch
I might pop a P
Then take a flight to the Baltic Sea
The chosen one yes
I’m the nominee
[Chorus]
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race to the bag
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race to the bag
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race
Bitch I do the race
Bitch I do the race to the bag

[Verse 3]
No capalapa it’s litty
Avi been running the city
Shawty heard Bout magic stick
How I abracada the kitty
I fuck her with one in the glizzy
Still on my hip I ain’t put it up
My bitch in the kitchen
Butt naked
Twerking that thang
While she cookin’ up
Tap in with plug out in Barca’
My guido them
Palettes he hook it up
Try to run off with the bread
We press in his family
We pushin’ up
GPS tracker his whip
Buddy must thought
He was slick
I shot my shotta a beam
Now he geekin’ he
Taking a trip easy
[Chorus]
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race to the bag
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race to the bag
Running man running man
Running man
Bitch I do the race
Bitch I do the race
Bitch I do the race to the bag