That Raw (Clean) - Torae, Pete Rock

«Aye

Yo

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you

We gonna

We gonna do a little thing right now

We gonna

We gonna do a little thing right now

We give you our little version of a little thing entitled»

Yeah

Pete Rock, nigga

Yo

It’s called spitting, some say I’m tight, nice with the written

Written I’m nice with the icepick through your penning

The chime chime in as I slice and write venom

With Chocolate Boy Wonder ammunition

Y’all wishing your competition would come to fruition

Pulling Ethan Hunt stunts in impossible missions

In the position to educate, the fuel, flame, fire was featherweight

I body shit, but y’all making heaven wait

While I’m making heaven’s gate look like the outside of the spot

It’s jam packed, the line rounding the block

The block grinders rewind us while providing the knock

My shit is dope as what’s stuff in their sock

I’m the reason why the hip-hop cops kept patrolling the block

They must have heard I was cooking with Rock

Nigga, Pete that is who beat that is booming through your speakers, kid

Case you forgot what the ether is

It’s that raw, this is the type of shit they ask for

Y’all make the type of shit they fast-forward

You wanting the realist shit, then as Tor

The other niggas just go out of here

This should separate me from the pack, I’m so ahead of the wack

At first glance, you might think coming back

But backtrack your first glance, you see that in fact

I’m so advanced that I doubled their laps, niggas' memories lapsed

'Cause I could’ve sworn, y’all knew not to put Tor

In any class another nigga can go on

I spit shit sick, ridiculous

Niggas get the fuck out of my zone or you miss the bus

I throw niggas under it, tell them kiss the muffler

, pistol covered up

You wish the fuck you was my pedigree, that you can never be

Be never forever, you smelling me?

Dog, what you telling me?

I’m not, but these niggas supposed to be hot?

I lay vocals at rotisserie spots

Flame spitter nigga, the only time you ever was hot

Is when your pops shot you out of his cock, motherfucker

And what they least expected was Tor on his next shit

The young veteran and the Soul Brother connected

You should take warnings on who not to eff with

Yo Pete, show these niggas the exit

See what they least expected was Tor on his next shit

The young veteran and the Soul Brother connected

You should take warnings on who not to eff with

Yo Pete, show these niggas the exit

You niggas all need to get out the dodge, tell 'em bon voyage

Go play in traffic, stand in front of my car

It’s probably better time spent than when you’re penning them bars

I’m for this garbage

You niggas' trash raps is wack, the fact you rebacked it and back

With shiny shoes, it don’t cover for that

So what I lack in platinum plaques, I match when I spit on a track

It’s match niggas, nigga, this is a wrap