kur – run it up lyrics
f-ck it up f-ck it up
[hook]
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
roll it up, roll it up
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
roll it up, roll it up
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
roll it up, roll it up
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
run it up run it up
roll it up roll it up
pour it up pour it up
if you got a check f-ck it up
roll it up roll it up
count it up count it up
[verse 1: kur]
i just got my homie out, i just told him roll me up
we were smoking way too much
b-tches doing way too much
i been doing what i want, i’m just young and having fun
never give my love to hoes
all these b-tches made me numb
all these b-tches made me numb
all these lil b-tches made me numb
every other day its f-ck my ex
every single day i’m smoking weed
every single day i think of [?]
[hook]
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
roll it up, roll it up
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
roll it up, roll it up
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
roll it up, roll it up
i had to f-ck that b-tch one more time
i had to hit the block one more time
i had to roll it up one more time
run it up run it up
roll it up roll it up
pour it up pour it up
if you got a check f-ck it up
roll it up roll it up
count it up count it up
[verse 2: lil uzi vert]
um. count it up count it up aye
all this money pockets stuffed aye
gettin’ money countin’ big face, so i can’t get enough
bad b-tch with a slim waist, ask that girl what you want
swerve in the foreign i’m driftin’
jump in the game like i’m pippen
all i do is f-ck these hoes now
remember couldn’t get the b-tches
i must be high off the gas (i must be high)
one thing always got the b-tches
i feel like i’m preston [?]
cause my money got no limit
riding around in my, woah, my car ain’t got no ceiling
gettin’ my money, countin’ my comma, uh yeah dab
word on the street i’m hot like a sauna
according to my homie, thats more like my broadie
ball like tony parker and gin-bli
most of these n-gg-s out here be phony
we smoke gas and we zonin’
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