Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Where You At, artist - Raekwon. Album song The Vatican Mixtape, Vol. 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.09.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: YLimit
Song language: English
Where You At |
Something’s in the attic, drugs on me, thugs gettin' |
Bubbly, let’s pop, surround the block, looking lovely |
Extra nine glindin' on me, women who barely know me |
Swarm me, faggots try to front, blow me |
Aiyo, I’m from the soul bluntly, we in them H2's coolin' |
Want me, try to kill a kid, bring your country |
Son’s nice with rifles, white fools, white dudes |
Jumpin' out, fed jackets, dare you to bump me |
A glow like Willie Bostic, I do the knifework job, yeah |
Rappers sprint, clap 'em, this is our 'jects |
Who taught ya’ll niggas, it was the kid with the tarantula |
Tinted up, extortin' ya’ll monthly |
Crabs in a bucket, rap, fuck it, yo, go get your handgun |
I’d rather shoot yo' ass in public, you ain’t a Air Force boss |
You a hoster, frontin' like me on your poster |
Now ya’ll niggas fuckin' with my ones |
We need to battle for cattle, acts, boats, art and crafts |
Scalpals, thumb rings, dick, be careful |
Fuckin' with Staten Island’s heartless |
Son of all flames, God guard frames, catch me with the Starks kid |
The authentic Ghost, we on the golf course, with rentin' boats |
Eagles on, feastin' with bigger GOATs |
Come take it in blood, dare any thug to re-up |
What, we gon' keep it on the hush |
In the clubs, where you at? |
In the clubs, where you at? |
Open paperchasing, on the low getting trapped |
Aiyo, drove into the water like bait, the ocean was dark |
The moon lit, swimmin' to the bottom to get to the sink |
We on niggas, and we comin' boy, talk with ya gun |
Me, I’m ready, and I’m ready with cake, yea |
Flawless, more powerful horses, the kid flow naucious |
Everybody gettin' weeded, we all for this |
Armored tank style, moving in ranks |
Hundred that’ll rock for me, still kill you, over your men bitch |
Skiing in Alaska, half the man, half Casper |
Runnin' with wolves, the bulls look nastier |
Silencer, each is thee least, will kill on Easter |
Ya’ll gon' get it, wait til we get creased up |
Nothin' but, rapid fire, livewire, brand new trees |
Burn 'em up, they respectin' your street, cousin |
We gon' bring it to every label, pay attention, ya’ll |
Cuban is back, now put that on a glass table |