| Jae Millz:
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| Yo
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| Hey, yo I heard your coach scream we can’t stop em, we gotta injure em
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| Nigga off top I goes in like I’m entering
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| Young Money red devils all we do is win and then
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| Get our Michael Phelps on with these bitches yeah we swim in them
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| Showing off this man enjoy, scrubs can’t stand this boy
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| If they don’t leave they hood then I’m coast to coast like Brandon Roy
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| And that internet dissin I ain’t got the energy
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| Cuz niggas is tough talkers with queer tendencies
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| Fuck the kid shit im grown and bout my dollars
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| So Ima play Sabathia and you go play Posada
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| Catch this fuckin heat I’m throwing at your fuckin collar
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| And tell Big L I got em once we reach the heavenly father
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| Nigga I rep that up-town, call me Mr. harlem
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| My flow monumental like Madison Square Garden
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| My bitch will air your squadrant, nigga I beg your pardon
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| Don’t get the rest of your motherfuckin kids darkened, Millz!
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| Gudda Gudda:
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| Uhhh, yeah
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| I grab the mic and O.D. |
| like I’m free basing
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| And we control shit, like free masons
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| Oh you a bold bitch, a lot of E taken
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| I pita roll shit, a lot of teeth aching
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| Leave the scene vacant, Young Money cavemen
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| Ice on the rims, so we leave skatin
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| Neck full of gold, wrist full of glitter and
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| When we leave all the hoes follow like twitter
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| Flow sour type bitter, I’m a different type nigga
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| Stomp niggas out yeah we typewrite a nigga, then
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| Put em to bed yeah we night night a nigga, I’m
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| Over your head like the zyguise nigga, I could
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| Get you brain for the right price nigga
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| Cuz these boys is pussy like pie spice nigga, I
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| Steam and cook em like hot rice nigga
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| Misery with the gullotine chop dice niggas, uhhh
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| Mack Maine:
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| Bitch I’m Mack Maine, uh
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| You are now tuned in to one of realist to do this shit
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| I spit proverbs, they spit foolishness
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| I spit the truth and shit, they spittin tall tales
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| If life’s a test, I pass and yall all fail
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| I bring you all hell, my words should be written in red
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| A psychic came up to me one day and this what he said
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| He said «Jermaine, on the mic, I can tell you nice
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| You touch hearts, you might be the second coming of Christ.»
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| I said «No Blasphemy» and proceeded to some other shit
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| Like put my rubber on and holla «Fuck the government!»
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| Respect my mind motherfucka, I’m a rider
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| As long as I’m alive ain’t no law that I abide by
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| Fuck a drive, by we walk up and squeeze to get paid
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| This game ain’t the same, Pac turning in his grave
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| If I dont make it to the top I know Gudda will
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| And I’mma help him call the shots, welcome to guddaville! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Raw , by - Gudda Gudda. Song from the album Guddaville, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп