Run The Jewels - Chase Me lyrics

[Intro] Here’s what we know 2 men and a woman came into the bank branch Clad in black business clothing Trench coats, bandanas, and sungla**es They pulled guns out and ordered everyone to the floor Then, cleaned out the registers Hear this, they even swiped j**elry from some of the customers [Verse 1 – El-P] Run The Jewels Gangster like you wake up in dickies and load the clippy The reign of our ascension makes statisticians feel sickly Accountants, they get snippy They’ve never count it so quickly God I’m up sniffing yak up off an abacus for a living Crime authors, autobiographically ba*tards Paint cats, put a pain in your brain batter Style dropping the drums and stun all (?) Small talkers get launched on, clobbered and tossed off Knock ’em on just to get rocks off Put a pause on all of that soft talk, chop chop Tick tock, you got until the hands on the clock stop I’m bagging a bag, then I’m backing out, better back off [Hook/Chorus – El-P] That’s why I’m outta here, baby Before these clowns put me down in the ground, baby I’m running reds ’til I’m out of this town, baby You want your money back? Chase me [Verse 2 – k**er Mike] Jewel runner, gold dripper, flow flipper Smoke k**er, slow sipper, quick temper Temperamental, sharp mental, departmental Tight fellow, wouldn’t want to be him, wouldn’t want to see him They the type, really be jealous, get’s ya hype Oh Jesus, these n***as is polices We gon’ shower on these pussies, they mommas gon’ know Jesus (?) told me money, these n***as should know better But they monkeys so you got to show junkies ain’t no let up Bad manners, the bad manor do bad things A bad b**h gave me bomb head to Bad Brains The sheriff’s daughter, we be outta there ‘fore dad came [Hook/Chorus] That’s why I’m outta here, baby Before these clowns put me down in the ground, baby I’m running reds ’til I’m out of this town, baby You want your money back? Chase me [Interlude] You ain’t gonna get your money back Ain’t gonna get the money, jack You ain’t gonna get that money back I got the bag it ain’t coming back You ain’t gonna get your money, jack I got the bag it ain’t coming back You ain’t gonna get your money, jack I got the bag [Verse 3 – Big Boi] Real grippers, pimp n***as with Gucci slippers Cootchie tippers, magic city got groupie strippers A crew of k**ers and dealers we got this newbie with us We turn Pirellis to jellies, ex cons and former cellies Stay on ready, foot on that very heavy Good on (?) smelly smelly Show some respect or you’ll get showered like parade confetti Made man, I’m made already, nobody safe from petty 450 horse up in the Porsche, 600 in the Chevy Buddy I’m nutty I’ve got some screws loose And if your b**h wants some cutty, baby I choose you Underground kings, speed and sound things Run the sax and be aware of all your surroundings [Hook/Chorus] That’s why I’m outta here, baby Before these clowns put me down in the ground, baby I’m running reds ’til I’m out of this town, baby You want your money back? Chase me [Outro] Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen, right now I got to tell you about the fabulous most groovy