I'm gonna run these streets,
You're gonna curse the air I breathe,
'coz I'm gonna run,
But you're the one who's gonna flee.
I'm gonna run these streets,
I'm gonna give you the count to three,
'coz I'm gonna run,
But you're the one who's gonna flee.
My old man was made of copper,
And my mother was the daughter of an ink-less author.
My mouth is dry but I don't drink water,
So I run to the tune of the devils laughter.
My feet may be burning,
But it's better than them going cold,
'coz in my grave I'll be turning,
If I die not chasing my soul.
Run these streets,
Gonna curse the air I breathe.
I'm gonna run,
But you're the one who's gonna flee.
Run these streets,
I'm gonna give you the count to three.
I'm gonna run,
But you're the one who's gonna flee.