Nothing - Chris Rivers, Jarren Benton

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

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

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

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

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