Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Raised Cain, artist - 9th Prince. Album song Revenge of the 9th Prince, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.04.2010
Record label: Wu
Song language: English
Raised Cain |
Aiyo, Slumdog Billionaire, only God I fear |
Grey hairs in my beard |
After the Laughter, comes Tearz, long dick spear |
Three course of course, but you can still see the size of my rear |
Louis Vutton don, I cause explosions like protons and electrons |
Destroy any MC like Papoose and Saigon |
Oh my God, 9th Prince is so hard |
Not because, I was locked up behind bars |
Or I, hung with the bloods in Auburn yard |
It’s because, I’ve been through hell and came home with no scars |
Kidnapped the rap game, where I’m from niggas kill over money and fame |
Platinum chains, bitches, and cocaine |
0−9 to 0−10, I raise 'cain |
Adam raised a cain |
Aiyo, custom made autos, custom made clothing |
Custom made motorcyles |
Incarcerated disciples, released from prison |
Master the street, shotout to Broadway planes |
And Hollywood squares on New Year’s Eve |
Rappers better duck and hide |
When I glide in the SL 500 |
Twin forty fives on my side |
Bulletproof ride, a weak nigga pride can turn into a homicide |
That’s a jewel, I learned from the old school |
Money, clothes and hoes, a number one rule |
I got the eyes of a calm killer, behind Bagarmi shades |
I push through in a snow storm, in a bulletproof Escalade |
Bring to war, enough ammo, to go in a rampage |
Fresh out the steel cage |
Locked up with them Brooklyn niggas, caught in the rage, I raise cain |
Aiyo, metaphors, make whores lay on the floor |
Slow down bitch, I’mma give it to you raw |
Knock knock, who the fuck’s at the door? |
It’s me Sawed-Off, last name Shotgun |
You caught that? |
Bang, bang, now catch that one |
I’m the Supreme, walk with a lean, that’s real mean |
And rise from the streets like Sting |
It was all a dream, catch New York is back |
All others can retire, and just relapse |
I’mma count my stacks, send shots through your fitted hat |
It’s like that black, carrying Shaolin on my back |
Niggas thought I fell off the map |
But the truth is, I was locked up in the trap |
With killas and hustlers, spot rushers |
Drug users, drug pushers, yeah we all contributers |
Muthafucka, I raise cain |
Yeah, you know what it is, man |
Sit the fuck down, stop being clowns |
You know what I mean, we go round for round |
Pound for pound, sound for sound, you know |
9th Prince, I raise cain, muthafucka |
I’mma outta here, yeah, see you next year, or this year |
Another atmosphere, one |