Runner by Rob White Lyrics

[hook: Rob White]

All my runners lace your mu'fuckin shoes cousin…
(runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin')

We're making runs, the dumb-dumbs hit the snooze button...
(runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin')

We paid dues fuck paying dudes that do nothin'...
(runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin')

We keep it real in this shit nigga, who's frontin?
(runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin')


[Verse 1: Rob White]


Co's a street runner, [he] run the streets to find honeys

Infiniti jogging suit, the sneaker size 20"
Leather underwear and if I'm ever gonna share that wit a bitch
She's probably unaware a nigga's rich

Which tell you I don't treat, and I never been a trick (nah)

That's Oktober's own way of getting chicks... (ha ha ha)

I keep a team that have you messing with your dicks

You keep that [Miami] Heat roster, your best is just a 6...


Then I change [in]to the Lexus for the sprints

I'm back and forth in newer rides I had to call it suicides..

Cause ain't nobody on my level that's everyday as you and I
So when I start killing, I'm the dude that die..

For instance, yo, when Chargers got too cool for school
I went and got classy out of principle, [I] skipped a grade on the kids I know
When I got a "C," as the class Benz to roll..
That's "average" shit, you know?

[hook]

[Verse 2: Rob White]


It's got to be some rules to my runnin', I'll give 7 to you..
(one)
Make'er GIVE you the pussy don't let her sell it to you
(two)
Don't buy her shit, not even that first round
She'll think of you as a trick, that's punting on first down..
(three)
Don't holler at the 6's if your taste is dimes
(four)
Don't take a girl's digits, that's a waste of time
(five)
And don't waste your time waiting on your phone to start going off
You just got to keep busy ho'ing off
(six)
Fuck showing off, [just] FUCK BITCHES
Showing US you fuck bitches ain't SAYIN MUCH
[i.e.] that top ten on ESPN's always the sickest
Cause those things don't happen when they're playing much..
(seven)
After you hit, THEN take her to lunch
That's how we say, 'preciate the fact you let me cut to the chase
No games, no lecture, or chase
Runners don't run behind bitches we just set the pace.. (keep up!)
[hook]


[Verse 3: Rob White]


Now, let me take you on a quick jog, my Android kicks on
Realest nigga runnin' "I do it" better than Big Sean
"ain't nobody fuckin wit my clique" except chicks, huh…?

But I'm the only member present for this picture
Presently I'm runnin' through Wichita, mad at son [why]

This square guardin' his girl gettin his Knicks on..
If he turn his head, I turn him [into] President Nixon

Now peace-sign your First Lady, your bitch gone..
She get my digits like she's trying to call a foul on me

She know I'm different, the way I'm covered wit style homie
I know she's different cause I got some flyer miles on me
YET, she STILL took my phone number wit a smile for me

Now this the part that ain't switching up

Most chicks taking the pitch'll never hit me up

They don't make contact cause they're married and won't swing OR
They still don't know the love king is just a dream.. (wake up..)

[hook]