Nothing

Lyrics

[Chorus: Chris Rivers] Running, running, running Twenty, fifty, hundreds Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like Running, running, running Money, money, money Ad-lib, ad-lib, nothing, nothing, nothing Running, running, running Twenty, fifty, hundreds Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like Running, running, running Money, money, money Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing [Verse 1: Chris Rivers] Homegrown, like you don't roam, like an old phone Never spoke low, like a hobo Like I'm solo, like I dope smoke [?] Tell my old foes, that I blow holes Like the O-zone, whole globe (no) Sky is falling, sirens calling Silence coffins, lie here often, wondering If I've been chosen, this is hell, than why's it cold And if it's heaven, than why's it open (hmm)? Did I earn this, am I burning Am I earnest, am I burdened, world is circling And it's turning, and it's hurling Why does it feel like nothing's moving Something's coming (hmm) Stuck Illusions, someone's bluffing Someone's human, guns and cuff him Red and blues and all the hues and colours If it's white then it is right, if not than it gets shot All the teachers, all the preachers All the doctors, all the leaders They just lead us, by the liters[?] Blood is dripping, cups are filling They defeat us, take our sneakers (hmm) Soldiers leave us, mostly because Most believe just, what they teach us What they feed us, it's not real when They all smiling, Mona Lisa [Chorus: Chris Rivers] Running, running, running Twenty, fifty, hundreds Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like Running, running, running Money, money, money Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing Running, running, running Twenty, fifty, hundreds Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like Running, running, running Money, money, money Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing [Verse 2: Jarren Benton] Lord I feel an empty feeling Hopeless losing focus Niggas fake that hocus pocus, poke the soulless Wake and smell the folgers I wrote this for soldiers Nigga they took the barrel from their head And kept going and going And life dealt them a shitty hand And no-one to hold them Felt broke, like I don't wanna fucking wake another day Self loathing, bitch this is the end no Seth Rogan Niggas hurting, not for certain, might be curtains, life is urgent Vodka washes away the pain, just like detergent You sit back in white suburban Not disturbed by cops that split, that's like a serpent Prey on blacks and browns that don't comply The right to merk 'em, quite discouraging Why concurring them, white conservatives Don't empathize, no light preservatives I feel worthless, that's America Why they scared of us, like we're predators Knights beheading us Hang our babies, burn our homes The white confederate, hide your etiquette, hide your melanin Yes sir, no sir, free to go so fly little pelican, fly little Pelican I feel elegant, high of medicine, light the hell When they can tell a nigga shit with no intelligence Too busy getting lit and that's irrelevant Now all I hear is [Chorus: Chris Rivers] Running, running, running Twenty, fifty, hundreds Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like Running, running, running Money, money, money Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing Running, running, running Twenty, fifty, hundreds Talking 'bout the bitches and the jewellery in abundance like Running, running, running Money, money, money Addlip, bad lip, nothing, nothing, nothing