Don’t Run lyrics

[Intro: Quilly]
Hey, Glizzy..I got us! (Hey Shooter, what's up!?)
Tone! Papi! Stafh!

[Verse 1: Quilly]
In the courtroom, I stood tall like Yao
Rasheed Wallace, Keep a Tech for the foul
The game shady, my money long, 8 miles
sh*ttin' on n*ggas, I'm just emptying my bowels
Low key, I'm gettin quiet money off the loud
Stash box with the dog food, puppy chow
Man on the horse, Tee's with the crocodile
Never Snitch, that's 3 numbers I'll never dial
Ball like A.I., Sway Like "how?"
You ain't got the answers, face to the clouds
We good over here n*gga, everything allahu
Went head up with the judge, cracked a smile
Riding like a chariot, that's how I carry it
Follow me, I know which way to go like I'm Harriet
Wife left me, the block love me, I married it
Shift doin' so much numbers, we start sharing it
Hottest in the city, quite frankly I'm aware of it
Keep your vest on, them 223's is tearing it
Clip full of helium, I pull up airing sh*t
Me versus you and your crew, I'm double daring it
n*ggas' tell before they go to jail cuz they scared of it
This 4 pound pardon my wardrobe, I'm wearing it
The dope is a 10, the coke spin like Vinyl
Promote the work, these instant grams are going viral
Wave lord, Trap lord, I'm the hood idol
With my warriors, I took us back to the finals
Caucasian work, whip it till it's albino
f*ck a b*tch, I'm tryna get rich like Lionel
My new steel stainless, you gon' die nameless
Sandwich bag full of pills, edible arrangements
Money in the Caymans, my new whore shameless
I took my b*tch card then I maxed out
Put her in a figure four, made her tap out
Crack baby, I was born in the crack house
Got it from the muscle, fish scale like the crab house
FC Kerbeck, Fish tell, stab out!
Uh, all black JAG, bout to grab a Cheetah
Posted on the ave like Nabiwiyyah
No dimes, 50 dollars for a bag of reefa
Jimmy Choo, 1200 for a pair of sneakers
Calm nikes, GAP sweats and a lo tee
b*tch you know my rap name, you don't know me
Youngin' im gettin more money than your OG
Young Philly n*gga, ballin like Mo Cheeks!
Cursing on my phone, we gon' get indicted
Do the whole dash, make her get excited
Bussin U's on broad street like I got a license
When I'm disgusted, I get nasty, my shot trifling!
1,000 Xanies, they gon' come in handy
I prolly sold crack to everybody in my family
Haines Street, started off with nicks, Marcus Camby
Got your b*tch in back of the banshee, no panties
My new b*tch stupid, my old b*tch goofy
These new n*ggas' singing like YFN Lucci
YSL, Gucci, Emilio Pucci
All my friends dead so I bought a lil UZI!