Yours Truly - Hell Razah

Yeah… R.A.Z.A.H.*

Do the Grey Goose dance, baby

Yo, run to the bar real quick

Everybody put they glass in the air…

Drink with me, uh-huh, we gon' smoke tonight

And probably fuck up ya hair, baby

I want two ladies to one nigga, right now

What it take you a week, I do in one take, let’s go

This for the mami’s with the gorgeous bodies, who barely go to parties

My sweet lion is love, from out the wild safari

And we can never copy, Whitney or being Bobby

Parking lot pimping, here’s a hard Ferrari

She like Jamaican sands, tanning to Bob Marley

I’m into old jams, but I ain’t Steve Harvey

I’m more like, probably, a young Marcus Garvey

I respect queens, don’t disrespect the hotties

My independent ladies, single and got babies

Keeping they legs closed, while brothers in the Navy

And brothers locked up, around the late eighties

Ain’t coming home soon, could make a switch move

Catch a full moon, bitchy attitude

The way the booty move, could make the wise fooled

She got a mind brighter, than any prized jewel

She got a mind brighter, than any prized jewel

She be my sleeping beauty, mami, I’m yours truly

Gucci bandana, you know it’s Razah Rubies

You know how it goes, raise up, man handle hoes

Who pose up in the club, with they camel toe

I’m on the dance floor, puffin' to Biggie, with two wizzes with me

Who love to kiss, like Madonna and Britney

I’m bugging, it’s like the whole game thinking they 50

You plotting to come and get me, son, I’m taking you with me

Everybody on these mixtapes thinking they straight

My piranha’s don’t go for the bait, they go for ya face

Ductape rappers, make 'em open the safe

Homicide any bitches who testify

Royal got the keys, so nobody can’t open the safe

Your beats is lame, your rhymes is trash, I just laugh

Niggas lucky that a record label found your ass

Do the math on my first week sales, I ring bells

Got fans in Japan, to France, to Israel

Even ATL, L.A., back to BK, yea

I run through players like Ray Lewis, vestes, I spray through it

Get mad cash like I’m half Jewish

I only spit that embambing fluid, be on the con, do it

Getting sucked off to calm music

Move units like Rod Stewart, and you get robbed to it

The undisputed rap Joe Lewis

My heart cold like eskimos, I give ya chest some holes

Unless you air out some extra flows

Bank account need extra O’s, no extra hoes

It’s more stress that’ll test my soul

Even older niggas know me, go and give me my props

Cause my game pull divas like Vivica Fox

Backwoods, by the boxes, man, I got lots of fans

It’s God’s will when ya glock get jammed

I’m not the Clan, but I rhyme, like you signed 9 members

Raz' a Maccabee, G.G., do remember

Pull ya coats down…

Don’t hate… haha… yeah…

What it take you a week, I do in one take

R.A.Z.A.H., don’t hate