Moneybagg Yo – P RUN Lyrics

P RUN

Moneybagg Yo

Lyrics copied!

"P RUN." - Moneybagg Yo

Friday, 23 October 2026, 05:55 pm

Album: SPEAK NOW OR...

Track No: 15

Fifty P's in a week, I need a hunnid least
Gentle Beatz
Uh-uh, uh, uh, uh, I ain't get no sleep
I run through these bows like I'm Deon, **** peon
Why you wait until the bitch check you to turn yo' P on?
Turnt so many brands and strands up, had a real P Run
Ice on me could cause a cold front, shit look like Freon
Uh, uh, bread by the loaf, ****, we all ate (No small plates)
If you ask me 'bout 'em, shit, they all fake (They all fake)
We just get the money and let y'all hate, uh, uh
We just get the money and let y'all hate
AP flooded, I just spent a dubby on Goyard luggage
Baby love it when I pop my shit and let her count it for me
Cuban on her chest, new bitch, who dis?
Ain't missed a hair appointment yet, new bitch, who dis?
Garlic chicken, private chef, we'on do the Ruth's Chris
Bought you a bag the first week, bitch, I'on usually do this
If you head honcho, then it's only right you turn up ya clique
Behind the tint, I let my seat back while she give it a kiss
Big boy Rolls truck, lift ya head up, see the stars all in this bitch
Real street **** if I ever go fed, I'ma give a pod officer this dick
I did a 50k weed promo just to let my dawg have this shit
I'on want nun if it ain't that Wock', I'ma let y'all have that Tris (No, I'on want that shit)
Three honey buns on a watch just to boost up my ego
I bet' not hear 'bout him doing no hating shit, I'm taking his ho (Come here)
What I'm puffin' right now, it's gon' be 4k for this smoke
It ain't no sample or no tester, gotta pay for this dope
I run through these bows like I'm Deon, **** peon
Why you wait until the bitch check you to turn yo' P on?
Turnt so many brands and strands up, had a real P Run
Ice on me could cause a cold front, shit look like Freon
Uh, uh, bread by the loaf, ****, we all ate (No small plates)
If you ask me 'bout 'em, shit, they all fake (They all fake)
We just get the money and let y'all hate, uh, uh
We just get the money and let y'all hate
Where the dice at? I'm really like that (Go get some, on God)
Take yo' **** jewelry off, where yo' ice at?
Got what they got but charging mo', I call that hype tax
You **** petty, that's why yo' trap ain't jumping like that
Uh, I can't front these ****, they take too long to pay back (Facts)
I'm having so much shit going on, I really can chill and lay back
Just to fuck off with Fatt Fox, I went rebought the Maybach
Quit actin' like a opp, if you ain't one of us, just say that
I got bows for the D Low
Get in with the Bossman, I'm who put the team on
A hunnid P's touchdown, dancing in the end zone
Like I hear my theme song
Primetime with this paper, find a bitch to spend it on
I run through these bows like I'm Deon, **** peon
Why you wait until the bitch check you to turn yo' P on?
Turnt so many brands and strands up, had a real P Run
Ice on me could cause a cold front, shit look like Freon
Uh, uh, bread by the loaf, ****, we all ate (No small plates)
If you ask me 'bout 'em, shit, they all fake (They all fake)
We just get the money and let y'all hate, uh, uh
We just get the money and let y'all hate
Fifty P's in a week, I need a hunnid least
Uh-uh, uh, uh, uh, I ain't get no sleep

Writer(s): Demario White, Daniel Schnabel, Robert Labraunte Gullatt, Robert L. Gullatt & Keanen Self.

All lyrical content displayed on this website is the intellectual property of its respective copyright holders. No ownership is implied, and no copyright infringement is intended.