Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Thadeus Birkett, N Bowens, Keith Raymond Crier, V Harris, Herb Lane, Emanuel Raheim Leblanc, Bruce Mayfield, Paul Service, Corey Woods
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RaekwonRaw Lyrics:
Yo Young Blood, aiyo yeah
Break down, stay in town, get down, [Incomprehensible]
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Start to scream out loud, cream team's back for more
900 dollars on the glass table, wally Clark Gable unable
Blow it on a gray goose, picture that, elephant skin
Cardier glasses dim, what's that?
Gold around the rim
Hollywoodizin', without goin' Hollywood
Polly for all, cream team playas in the hood
Stop that scrutinizin', naturize
See my paper rise, promotin' it at Lakeshore Drive
Trickin' at the shark bar, God
Make sure the collar greens got turkey bars par, we got you Allah
Rare start grappin' the hair, playin' Cuban Linx
Spinnin' like the swivel chair, yeah, no question
The peeps flippin', actin' like she wanted me to pipe her
And they got you jealous, claimin' that you never liked her
Then I found out y'all was too many dykers
Now I'm hyper, beggin' you to hook me with a cypher
See me in the tunnel and you trouble me
Get my dick hard dancin', sippin' my bubbly
Yo, beat me in the head, talkin' 'bout how you got a man
And can't get freaky as I wanna be
No talk, giant size in the game
Colt 45, appliance in the game
Tyra's in the game, huh?
Relyin' on money to make sure that my environment is changed
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Start to scream out loud, cream team's back for more
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at ya door
Start to scream out loud, cream team's back for more
2:15 and I'm blasted, smack that ass kid
Light skin, what up? Stop splashin'
Slang got niggas in the choke hold
Freakin' their coats, got 64,000 on clothes, yo
Wu-wear jackets and hats, relaxin', bets play that
Ping-pong champion cats, what? Chantin' out walk myers
Yo, the weather is nice, flex the Benz
With 10,000 in flyers
The squellin' I'm for in the six range things
Make the loyalest cats, Flipmode do strange things
Switch like change lanes, chains, rings and glaciers
Stay phat in it
Man, I can't stand them chicks, I dig for Vanson
Play a brother close to Puff is Branson
Ice work, gleamin' I'm catchin' them, glancin'
I play 'em no mon', 'bout to bar dance 'em
White bitches with Banky like, "You handsome"
Flyin' to the hills to fuck in the mansion
Only one way you spendin' the night in here tonight
If your head is right
Dance turn into a romance
Dance turn into a romance
Get up, get down, move around, cover ground
Throw it on the brother now, you swore
I had your mother on the ground
High rollers that know us
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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