Raw
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Lyrics
Twenty below in my drawers
But dick hot, I got sweat on my balls
I adapt to any environment or the weather
Talk more shit than 50 Cent, Funk nigga whatever
Been bouncin' out, puttin' hands on niggas
Slang cola by the ounce, hand groups of the trigger
Gun clapped, shots rang out, it get crucial
And every nigga I'm with is feelin' mutual
We bust, shit pop off like July and New Years
Can't remember the last time I cried since Tattoo was a tear
I build, gangsta roll, block the traffic
Leave you layin' on your horn, then turn on the hazards
No I'm not a bastard, my daddy still livin'
This for my niggas that died, for my realies in prison
I stayed in my division, never turf-topped
Screamin' rollin' hunnids 'cause I'm ridin'
'Cause I'm ridin' round, r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
What you gon' do when it don't get you high no more?
Pills, I done copped four
Wet snow, then I overdosed
No friendly ghost, boy I'm nothin' like Casper
Past Tahoe in Alaska, smokin' with asthma
Remy in my glass, huh
Bitches givin' their ass up
I'm gon' get 'em higher than me, if they just don't pass it up
Pass the cup, take your ass to the store with that bottle
Down that fifth is my motto, and this path you can't follow
'Cause I need my fix, so tell me, what this shit do?
Or I'ma turn on that Ashraf and 2Pac and juice
I get loose, let you sucka niggas know
All in the door, Foreign Boys, ho
'Cause I'm ridin' round, r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
Lord, I clap dope shit, I wrote this
To get you out of focus, you didn't notice
I be the hardest you heard since 2Pac died
Rest in peace, my nigga, real soldiers gon' ride
You was a raw to spit it, your style can't be impersonated
For those who bite, they bit it, I mean a motherfucker ate it
The whole industry hatin'
'Cause that East West Coast funk, you made it
Before you left, now niggas thuggin' to death
Caught up in the neutral zone, I ain't the ref
So you get more than a penalty
More than critical condition, when you fuckin' with my mans and me
I'm in a Z, ridin' with police behind
Strapped with a MAC-9, TNG's, and a 9 piece
It's off and it's finna be hard
And for sure gon' stab somethin' whenever I hit the yard
'Cause I'm ridin' round, r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'
I'm r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ridin'