Run The Line (Lord Finesse Remix) (Feat. Rasco & Lord Finesse)

featuring Rasco 



Verse 1: 

Yo I tell you niggas what 

You better stay home and lay your ass in the cut 

I'm goin for heads 

Lay you for dead 

Foldin emcees like bedspread 

And you ain't had this much milk since you was breastfed 

Galleons on courts 

For sports  I bust bubbles on the double 

Destroyin these fools who want to give me trouble 

Ball with stuffle 

Six feet  women be lovin it 

Brothers be thinkin o' stickin but I be shovin it 

Ready, unload with fat tracks from lootkids 

Doin my thang since 16 in '86 

Hey yo, sayin that the West ain't it 

Nigga I'll smack you in your mouth for that shit 

Let me show you what I claim 

I'm doin my thang 

But everybody out in Cali don't gangbang 

You better open up them mics 

And get out my face 

Give me some space 

Better break out them old Nikes 

You better run for the crib 

Cause run in your jigs 

I'll send you home with a broke back and cracked whig 

Microphone's in control 

So ready explode 

Motherfuckers need to punch up the flexcode 



Verse 2: 

Heaven forbid 

I rip kids, get they face blown 

Bring 'em in packs, and I can rip 'em by the caseload 

Ready explode 

On contact for that contract 

Flash these lyrics and ready for mic-combat 

Who want to step to get a rep 

Playin double jet 

Me and my man be on these tracks at the inner sect 

Mass confuse 

Hit your fellas off with bad news (tell 'em what?) 

Tell 'em you tried but I just blew you out your damn shoes 

Here's this mic, you can praise it if you need to 

Should've been there when your brother really needed you 

It's too late, had to blast off like 38's 

Food for thought but don't be eatin of no dirty plates 

I keep it clean and always on the uppernut 

Nigga, you soft and your rhymes need the toughin-up 

No gun chatter on the platter cause it doesn't matter 

Me and the Wolf collaborate just to make it fatter 

You better scatter like the roaches with the lights on 

I tell these niggas don't you bother turn them mics on 

Goin deep like quarterbacks on they long throw 

And Time Waits For No Man label Stones Throw 

The LP, in '97 you'll be seein me 

Gradual shots to your nut got you seein three 

I'm runnin rhymes while the clock is steady runnin time 

Crab emcees get in your block to start run in lines 



Verse 3: 

Comin in thirst 

Brothers shouldn't say another word 

Kickin your rhymes but they was verses already heard 

Give me respect, it be the Ras with the triple threat 

Smash eject, cause already know what's comin next 

So I predict that all these brothers goin' to be ridin dicks 

Break out the axe because it's time that you get 86 

Playin these scrubs in nightclubs like they legendary 

I'm first class and everybody else is secondary 

But don't you worry, all these brothers got your vision blurry 

Ready to fix your cateracts with the fattest tracks 

Keep it intact with screws 

Roll with tight tools (tight crews) 

And now you missin and your face is on tonight's news 

So pay your dues 

Don't nobody make it overnight 

You heard the singleand you thought that it was overwrite 

NO, cause I can do it to you every time 

Me and Peanut Butter Wolf gotta run 'em lines