Hell Razah Yourz Truly текст песни, слова песни Yourz Truly Hell Razah
Hell Razah - Yourz Truly
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
[Hell Razah:]
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
[Chorus x4: Hell Razah]
She be my sleeping beauty, mami, I'm yours truly
Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies
[Hell Razah:]
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
[Chorus x4]
[Hell Razah:]
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
[Chorus x2]
[Outro: Hell Razah]
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
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