| You can’t catch 'em, don’t even try to |
| The route that he takes is hard to follow |
| He lives for today and not tomorrow |
| Every move that he makes is about the dollar |
| And he’s much to fast to catch up with |
| A fine piece of ass he’ll snatch up quick |
| See the women are amazed at the size of his engine |
| Jealous ass niggas wanna catch him and lynch him |
| He don’t chill, cruise or stop |
| They wonder if he’s on pills, shrooms or what |
| But the boy got the rhythm, style and class |
| Oh and when he throw they go smile when they ask |
| You might as well say that he got 'em |
| Makin' love uptown then he dip to the bottom |
| To fuck over somebody, this man will |
| He don’t pause, he don’t stand still |
| He just… |
| Run |
| Look at 'em run |
| You best to get out the way when he come |
| You best to hide all your hoes, he’ll freak 'em |
| He c-c-cut 'em, scr-scr-scratch 'em off his list |
| Put on his drawers and leave without a kiss |
| Switch from lane to lane |
| Refused to break, he straight changed the game |
| No need to watch him, you can’t stop him |
| Get close range if you wanna pop him |
| But he’ll bail out quick with the wind in his hair |
| Oh shit, is that him right there? |
| I hit the highway |
| 6'10 ablaze |
| A big bad motherfucker, 24 inch blades |
| Pop a pill, smoke, chill, big foot for the skrill |
| Classic 3−51 lift, kid in the grill |
| Speed it up and slow down |
| And I’m always down to blow now |
| Cruisin' in a swisher and you never find me tore down |
| Run |
| Look at 'em run |
| Zero to fifty in 2.5 |
| Secs as he wrecks, almost but he drives |
| The girls crazy with his hazy eyes |
| And his ride, a wing dinner, extra gravy and fries |
| Don’t even have time for a four course meal |
| And if it ain’t important, he ain’t 'bout it for real |
| He’s steals hearts, but he’s not a thief |
| The way that he is give him a lot of beef |
| The name is Fast, Motherfuckin' Swift |
| Told him, he ain’t the nigga to be fuckin' with |
| But shit, they ain’t gon' listen |
| Until they wake up and he’s gone and they panties is missin' |
| He’ll call back |
| And they’ll wish him well |
| Never kiss and tell, he give them dick and bail |
| And keep comin' and goin', goin', comin' |
| They hot on his track on his back |
| But he… |
| Run |
| Look at 'em run |