Text: Crooked I. Other. Run.

Yeah, let's bring it over here to the LAPD man
Uh Oh,
Whenever 5-0 hit, my mind's speakin' on some survival shit
I'm an Outlaw, 5-0 is who I'm rivals with
So I'm out y'all, like they quit
Quicker than a slug that a rifle spit
A thug quicker than Michael bit
Run, Gestapo's comin' up fast so I gotta dash
We hood stars and they never wanted a autograph
One of the homies didn't run and they shot his ass
He paralyzed now and can't move his bottom half
Standin' still is the silly plan
Even if I gotta snatch a innocent b!tch right out of her mini van
I knock you off in ? and wouldn't give a damn
They respondin' with shots fire
I'm the trigger man
I run, I'm ditchin' out fools
They never ?
Penitentiary time and Crooked I just don't miss
Plus my homies incarcerated told me to stay on the bricks
So I

[Hook: Ghostface Killah]

Run! If you sell drugs in the school zone
Run! If you getting' chased with no shoes on
Run! Fu*k that! Run! Cops got, guns!
They givin' out life like bird tons
Run! If you ain't do sh!t, you it
That next felony nigga, it's like three zip
So, Run! Hop fences, jump over benches!
When you see me comin' get the fu*k out the entrance!
Run! Fu*k that! Run! Cops got guns! Mothafu**a?.

Damn, these mothafuckas are on my as* man
I gotta make it back to mothafuckin' Long Beach Boulevard, fu*k