|
AZ - Uncut Raw lyrics
No need for Lato's, pure straight out Bolivia Peru, uncut baby, what? Life is a struggle, that's why niggas I know stay on the juggle Some hustle to double, others hug you to mug you Poverty-stricken, they even turn a church kid into stickin It seems sickenin, but what? Whatever makes the pockets thickin Fuck police and no remorse for the beasts that's lost on the streets, that pistol whip a priest for a crosspiece Some lost sheep, runnin thru strips, thinkin of top dealers Fillin Tek clips, wit 'cop killers' that could stop gorillas Shovin a stubnose in buttholes, I'm nutso skitzo, clepto, killin shit up throughout the metro My thug essence will always keep me plugged with drug investments Sketch my reference, takin papers considered preference And violations will lead to kidnappin, decapitation So what you're facin, is realism that's in activation Livin off land with five honeys playin my hand Me and fam, sippin off Guinness stout and eatin clams It's all part of plans, a vet chillin in Tamps, West and Stans Outta state connect, slugs, sex, drugs and grands Hook: What? For my Height niggas (Uncut) Trife niggas (Raw), 25-to-life niggas This is as, pure as opium, purified for street players to open em space, like three els laced with coke in em Shots awoken em, fake uniform takes the portion of six trips, to young clips and killers coachin em However though, fake ass niggas'll never know Cos my method's perfected, I'm movin sceptic and never show I'm soon to blow, stack doe, lay on the low While I'm sippin Cristal, I mess with Long Island and Moe A part of nature, me wan' acres in Jamaica Puffin exotic trees without seeds rolled up in leaf paper So exhale, cos if I don't live to tell then fuck it, if well, I'll see the rest of y'all niggas in hell Hook So all my good fellas, heroin, coke and weed sellers What the fuck cats can tell us if they ain't got bread to bail us? Happy to survive, I haven't seen it all, Peter pay Paul From the connivers to the livest, they crack fool It's all war, the streets are filled up with guns galore Plenty young for war, gettin their minds flunked and sore Yo dun, cock the 4..... Motherfuckers think we're playin, back em down Holdin niggas for high stitches, what? What |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Christmas Fantasy by Anita Baker |
 Minutes to Midnight by Linkin Park |
 The Rose, Vol. 2 by 2Pac |
 Ray Ray by Raphael Saadiq |
 Love Lives Forever by Minnie Riperton |
