Uh, you got a bag full of paint and a head full of brain
No snow, no rain, ain’t got no complaint
Like you high on that krylon running through your veins
You look like a war vet starin' at them trains

It’s like you zen the fuck out
Sittin' in the bushes, letting all the bugs out
One smoke one beer, when the coast is clear
You disappear until your zone stoned on the fear

Lookin' at scarred box cars
Focusing and notice one of the ones most fit
It’s like that one there, has got your name all over it
So that one there, is getting your name all over it

Pull a can of sky blue for the outline
Sky for the limits, blue for the down time
Nerves at blast, disturbin' the masses of rats
With these thin tips and fat caps

Thinking 'bout your little brother
'Cause he been tryin' hit the yard with you all summer
It’s a good thing that you didn’t bring him along
'Cause that’s when you saw the flashlights singing this song like

Run, run, run these yards
Run, run, don’t get caught
Run, run, every piece understood
I wanna tell 'em you were good on the foot part

Run, run, run these yards
Run, run, don’t get caught
Run, run, every piece understood
Better believe you ran as fast as you could

It wasn’t fast enough, a simple catch
Cornered in the parking lot hidin in the trash
You heard the footsteps, heart beatin' hard
Are you gonna have to fight with a train yard guard?

You stepped out on some, yup let’s start this
Puffin' out your chest like you wasn’t in the garbage
And that’s when the universe stopped
'Cause your looking straight at a uniformed officer

What you think, should you run, run
And take a chance at getting some from his stun gun
That ain’t one on one, plus he look kinda young
The type that might beat your ass just for fun, huh

So tell me what the fuck are you supposed to do
Already thinking about the cuffs holdin' you
Already got a few cases over you
But then the police man says, no it’s cool

What, where’s the punch line, can’t call it
Too many paint fumes, musta lost it
He handed you your bag and said, “Here, I think you dropped this.”
'Cause this cop grew up on hip hop

Run, run, run these yards
Run, run, don’t get caught
Run, run, every piece understood
It all depends on where the pieces are put

Run, run, run these yards
Run, run, don’t get caught
Run, run, every piece understood
Now do your thing and make the neighborhood look good

More lyrics from Atmosphere

Tags
hip-hop