Run Up On Ya - Joey Bada$$, Elle Varner, Action Bronson

Yeah, run up on ya bitch like

Probably run up on ya bitch like

Lord, can I get a bad bitch?

High class whip, be above the average

Headed north west, that two seater Kardashian

Type to give me brain up in the red light traffic

And keep ya head up, that 2Pac blasting

Face two stacks and then be back into this action

No time to relax, I need someone to count this cash with

That match with, give me what I’m askin'

The lady in the streets appear beast on that mattress

That’s it, you’re the only one I’m trying to mack with

But you could be a liability or fat (ass)et

How real is that ass miss?

Bend that shit backwards

Hit one backwood, crack the pussy like a password

Bet that pussy’s last word is master

Ask her, roll my rocker til I made that astronaut

That’s NASA thought, be that young fly, nasty one

Swallow the seeds, please, but you can’t catch me slipping, hon

So let’s just ride away

We could die today

Got no time to waste

So just roll with me, baby

Ride or die

Always by your side

Until the end of time

Driving me crazy

First thing’s first, I, Joey

Freaks all the honeys, mommies, the playboy bunnies

The hoes love me, get down before the money

Just know shit could get ugly, but whether it rain or sunny

Just never worry, chinchillas in February

Vanilla, that’s when you ready

Check the itinerary whenever it’s necessary

Keep my baby straight, peep my lady lace

The Margiela to Doneva

Fool less it’s planned and everything is in control

So hit the gas and let’s go

It’s no sleep til Brooklyn, another beastie boy

And she just can’t stop looking, she like it raw

Real spitter and all and that’s the word of mouth

And let her sit in the jaw

I’m so nasty, please just walk past me

So tempted to grab it, I gotta have it

We could be living lavish so tell me, girl, right away

We could hit the bank then escape to the hideaway

Is you riding, riding with me?

Is you riding?

Is you riding, riding with me?

Is you riding?

Getting head in the whip and not crashing it

FILA Velour shorts set, half Arabic

I sit in dove room with candle lit

Tell little mama handle it

Or you could leave the sandals on and pull your skirt up

I really remember reading Word Up

Tiger Beat, see me on the cover soon, fold out posters

Hanging on your shorties wall

I still be fucking women half my age when I’m 44

Young skin, a winning personality

Hard dick, million dollar salary

These cheating refs calling fouls on me

Break the fucking whistle off in his ass, now hit the road, Jack

Hop off the bozack, the .44 clap

You’ll need low jack to define your whole back

Euros’ll get down, you know that

Swimming trunks and throwback

Yeah, you know that