[Chorus: Chris Rivers]
Running, running, running
Twenty, fifty, hundreds
Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like
Running, running, running
Money, money, money
Ad-lib, ad-lib, nothing, nothing, nothing
Running, running, running
Twenty, fifty, hundreds
Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like
Running, running, running
Money, money, money
Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing

[Verse 1: Chris Rivers]
Homegrown, like you don't roam, like an old phone
Never spoke low, like a hobo
Like I'm solo, like I dope smoke [?]
Tell my old foes, that I blow holes
Like the O-zone, whole globe (no)
Sky is falling, sirens calling
Silence coffins, lie here often, wondering
If I've been chosen, this is hell, than why's it cold
And if it's heaven, than why's it open (hmm)?
Did I earn this, am I burning
Am I earnest, am I burdened, world is circling
And it's turning, and it's hurling
Why does it feel like nothing's moving
Something's coming (hmm)
Stuck Illusions, someone's bluffing
Someone's human, guns and cuff him
Red and blues and all the hues and colours
If it's white then it is right, if not than it gets shot
All the teachers, all the preachers
All the doctors, all the leaders
They just lead us, by the liters[?]
Blood is dripping, cups are filling
They defeat us, take our sneakers (hmm)
Soldiers leave us, mostly because
Most believe just, what they teach us
What they feed us, it's not real when
They all smiling, Mona Lisa
[Chorus: Chris Rivers]
Running, running, running
Twenty, fifty, hundreds
Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like
Running, running, running
Money, money, money
Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing
Running, running, running
Twenty, fifty, hundreds
Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like
Running, running, running
Money, money, money
Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing

[Verse 2: Jarren Benton]
Lord I feel an empty feeling
Hopeless losing focus
N***as fake that hocus pocus, poke the soulless
Wake and smell the folgers
I wrote this for soldiers
N***a they took the barrel from their head
And kept going and going
And life dealt them a shitty hand
And no-one to hold them
Felt broke, like I don't wanna fucking wake another day
Self loathing, bitch this is the end no Seth Rogan
N***as hurting, not for certain, might be curtains, life is urgent
Vodka washes away the pain, just like detergent
You sit back in white suburban
Not disturbed by cops that split, that's like a serpent
Prey on blacks and browns that don't comply
The right to merk 'em, quite discouraging
Why concurring them, white conservatives
Don't empathize, no light preservatives
I feel worthless, that's America
Why they scared of us, like we're predators
Knights beheading us
Hang our babies, burn our homes
The white confederate, hide your etiquette, hide your melanin
Yes sir, no sir, free to go so fly little pelican, fly little Pelican
I feel elegant, high of medicine, light the hell
When they can tell a n***a shit with no intelligence
Too busy getting lit and that's irrelevant
Now all I hear is
[Chorus: Chris Rivers]
Running, running, running
Twenty, fifty, hundreds
Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like
Running, running, running
Money, money, money
Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing
Running, running, running
Twenty, fifty, hundreds
Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like
Running, running, running
Money, money, money
Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing