Heatwave [Acoustic]

Run, run, run

You better run, run, run like a demon chasin' you
Run, run 'til your face is blue
Run, run
Run, run
You better run, run, run like a demon chasin' you
Run, run 'til your face is blue
Run, run
For your momma's sake

Long Summer, long Summer, long Summer
Long Summer, it's gon' be a heatwave
Long Summer, all summer
Our Winter's like Summer
Long Summer, long Summer, yeah
Long Summer, long Summer
It's gon' be a heatwave
Long Summer, in our Winter (they killin' niggas)

See they see, see it in your skin, yeah
And they clips got the chips, yeah
They got that heat on they hip, yeah
And they can't wait to let it rip, no no

See they see, see it in your skin, yeah
And they clips got the chips boy
They got that heat on they hip, yeah, uh
And they can't wait to let it rip, no no

Okay, I ain't tryna die on this beautiful day
I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing your beautiful face
So I'ma run like, I've been running the streets right
I mean, run like I just missed the streetlight
I fall flat like I'm trying out for track
'Cause they beat a nigga blue just for loving that he black
My advice is, run like Obama 'fore they catch you like Osama
Better, run like a nose 'fore they catch you like a cold
He got that heater on his hip, yeah
He evil so he might just let it rip, yeah
And I know how to hold nobody shit, yeah
So why the fuck the coppers is on my dick? Yeah, be clear
It's gon' be a long, long summer
Tomorrow's never promised and I sometimes really wonder
When they tell me "keep the peace" do they mean click-clack?
I know we're looking forward but I gotta watch my back

Run, oh
Run, run
Run, run, run
Run, run, ooh

Long Summer, long Summer, long Summer
Long Summer, it's gon' be a heatwave
Long Summer, all summer
Our Winter's like Summer
Long Summer, long Summer, yeah
Long Summer, long Summer
It's gon' be a heatwave
Long Summer, in our Winter, yeah

And he got that heater on his hip
Clip is with the shits
He don't shoot to miss, click-clack, click-click
Got that heater on his hip
Clip is with the shits
He don't shoot to miss, click, clack
And we got that heater on our hip
Clip is with the shits
And we don't shoot to miss, click-clack, click-click
Got that heater on my hip
Who gonna be crying?
Your momma or mine?
Your momma or mine?