Running Man - Casper TNG, R k

Uh, fly into Neverland

Brand new .38 and it never jam

Three eight like butter on my bread and jam

Hit the running man

I’ma pull up on his block, he hit the running man

Ayy

Peter pan, he gon' fly into Neverland

Brand new .38 and it never jam

Three eight like butter on my bread and jam

No trace, no case, I just hit the dash

I’ma pull up on his block, he hit the running man

All he hear is thirty shots when he running, man

Pull up on his block, hit the running man

Best believe I’m right behind with my gun in hand

We the ones putting up new cameras

Do a drill then swap for the hammer

We the ones, big chains, can’t jam us

We the ones got downtown onto madness

Police, freeze, dance for the camera

And I smoke like green lantern

Smoking on new opps on Saturn

Shawty got a man, that don’t really matter

I’ve seen real niggas turn into fake niggas

Seen lil' niggas growing up to spank niggas

And if you don’t know my team then you late, nigga

We the ones with your bitch chilling by the lake, nigga

He was sleeping, heard the shots, he awake

If I’m on your block, I’m shooting unless somebody get him baked

I’ma cook 'em like a cake

Bullets faster than running but I hit him it’s fate

But that’s just the way we play, nigga

Peter pan, he gon' fly into Neverland

Brand new .38 and it never jam

Three eight like butter on my bread and jam

No trace, no case, I just hit the dash

I’ma pull up on his block, he hit the running man

All he hear is thirty shots when he running, man

Pull up on his block, hit the running man

Best believe I’m right behind with my gun in hand

Peter pan, he gon' fly into Neverland

Brand new .38 and it never jam

Three eight like butter on my bread and jam

No trace, no case, I just hit the dash

I’ma pull up on his block, he hit the running man

All he hear is thirty shots when he running, man

Pull up on his block, hit the running man

Best believe I’m right behind with my gun in hand

I’ma make the whole crowd do the running man

Black gloves, black mask, no evidence

Then it’s back to the trap, do my money dance

What you know 'bout counting up hundred bands?

Shawty say I’m so fly like I’m Peter Pan

Said she want to take a ride off to Neverland

When it’s time, I’ma ride with my gun in hand

Pull up on your block hit the running man

To be honest, I’m a trapaholic

Tell me get him, I’ma hit him, that’s regardless

Paper around me, all I see is monsters

My block cloudy, new ganja

Every man hot sauce, we lava

Sell 'lotta food like we Loblaws

Don’t diss me, you don’t want trauma

Gotta llama, deal with you proper

I’ma make the whole crowd do the running man

Black gloves, black mask, no evidence

Then it’s back to the trap, do my money dance

Then it’s back to the trap, do my money dance

I’ma make the whole crowd do the running man

Black gloves black mask no evidence

Then it’s back to the trap, do my money dance

Then it’s back to the trap, do my money dance

Peter pan, he gon' fly into Neverland

Brand new .38 and it never jam

Three eight like butter on my bread and jam

No trace, no case, I just hit the dash

I’ma pull up on his block, he hit the running man

All he hear is thirty shots when he running, man

Pull up on his block, hit the running man

Best believe I’m right behind with my gun in hand

Peter pan, he gon' fly into Neverland

Brand new .38 and it never jam

Three eight like butter on my bread and jam

No trace, no case, I just hit the dash

I’ma pull up on his block, he hit the running man

All he hear is thirty shots when he running, man

Pull up on his block, hit the running man

Best believe I’m right behind with my gun in hand