Run the Line (Lord Finesse Remix)

[Intro: Lord Finesse]

Run the line, no doubt

Remix

Ah

[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 wanna 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 wanna 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