This is a song about "Running ver cats with lawnmowers"

Run with ill cats, and we we kill that, with heat like shaq attack,

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

And i have to say that music keeps me here, by far, the main thing

While the states are spraying kids with 'straying' clips for cash that's running

So you she would hide cause she thought of me as a typical guy

I leave most motherfuckers with suppressed lungs running out of air supply,

And your bitch is the type of bitch who really wanna lose

Would you be running with crews or have somethin' to prove,

With a trail of dead mic's cause these wack cats get stopped like red lights.

And when the sun up i'm like shit you look better in tights

Please correct me, stretch marks

With blood running fast down my arms

Running out of time your hour glass collided with my ill mind,

Then bring your big bad ass to california, cause we ain't hard to find