This is a song about "Roshe runs"

This my zombie circus, you better get a fuckin' ticket

You can tell by your so called diss jealousy runs it,

In kitchen, whippin' blow, it got the same damn crumbs

And runs a record business by the time daylight comes

It's difficult to let it goi'm startin' to loose my hair cause i worry

Then runs outside its nine past 12 he runs into the street a car hits him and he

Late night to the early morn, i been such a rolling stone

And it runs up though their brains and relaxes in their dome,

He runs back o the elevator, runs and slams his door,

The cp3 of this rap game, i bet my nigga score

Never alone we 'bout to make the drums cry

He rises runs the game while his cleats pry

Enough fucking atheist rappers to get a nun slapped

Live every day like your last, time runs fast

But instead i got a father that runs me into the ground

Leaning off the actavis, passing blunts round and round