Who’s house? Run’s house.
Who’s house? Run’s house.
I’m expressing with my full capabilities, and now I’m living in correctional facilities.
In New York, the people talk and try to make us rhyme, they really hawk, but we just walk because we have no time.
Bass in your face, not an eight track, gettin’ it good to the wood so the people give you some a dat.
Don’t ask me, because I don’t know why, but it’s like that, and that’s the way it is.
My posse come quick, because my posse got velocity.
Fight the power, indeed.