Raw - Chief Keef

You got three guns again?

Which ones you got?

Oh yeah, that shit raw

I got a bad bitch, she raw

I got a MAC-10, he raw

Walk in the mall like, «Coach, put me back in,» big ball

It’s me and Ben Frank in the mall, bitch think we talk

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh

'Member I was off a four and my fans seen me fall

They like, «He ain’t give a fuck 'cause he raw,» at all

These niggas ain’t raw, nah

Just got a BMW M6 and he raw

Don’t make me use the stick shift and leave y’all

This bitch in the whip, she like «How you let down the window?»

This shit raw, all y’all

A bunch of coke, a bunch of boat

That shit you got on is fake, it ain’t right

Like hot sauce on a hot dog

'Member eating ramen noodles

Now I buy what I want to

My bitch got an ass, she raw too (She raw)

She mad 'cause she can’t do what she want to (Hell naw)

Baby, 'cause you’re raw

You Lamborghini raw (Girl, you Lamborghini raw)

My truck costs what a Lamborghini costs (My truck costs what a Lamborghini

costs)

I got some raw guns, a nigga T me off (Got some raw guns, a nigga T me off)

You see me on you, feel the screen, we cut your TV off (Come kill the screen,

we cut your TV off)

I remember running in houses

Sosa, how big is your house?

It’s six thousand

Square feet, six bedrooms and ten different bathrooms

So I shit when I want to

And I know I’m raw 'cause I do this when I want to

I got a bad bitch, she raw

I got a MAC-10, he raw

Walk in the mall like, «Coach, put me back in,» big ball

It’s me and Ben Frank in the mall, bitch think we talk

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh

'Member I was off a four and my fans seen me fall

They like, «He ain’t give a fuck 'cause he raw,» at all

These niggas ain’t raw

They ain’t raw, raw, raw, raw, raw

Baby, you want it, buy whatever you want, want, want, want, want

Sosa, your car is raw, raw, raw, raw, raw

When I pull off in that bitch, it’s like rah, rah, rah, rah, rah

Only thing gon' kill me is a puff, puff, a puff, a puff, a puff

You ain’t smokin' on Cali, boy, that ain’t no loud, bitch, shut the fuck up

Take a look around my house, it’s Glocks and blunts and Glocks and blunts and

blunts

Tryna come up in here, we gon' paint your ass on a Capri Sun

Boy, you cross Almighty Sosa, you done

Do this MAC-10 go with my Balenciagas or with the 9 with the 1's?

And I got so many thots, say fuck my baby mama

'Cause she crazy

She on that Libra shit, she love me then hate me

But I still do it for my baby

Child support, shit, it don’t faze me

'Cause I get cakey

I go a lot of places

I got accountants and agents

Give my niggas raw guns, bitch, they sprayin'

I got a bad bitch, she raw

I got a MAC-10, he raw

Walk in the mall like, «Coach, put me back in,» big ball

It’s me and Ben Frank in the mall, bitch think we talk

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh

'Member I was off a four and my fans seen me fall

They like, «He ain’t give a fuck 'cause he raw,» at all

These niggas ain’t raw, nah