Raw Meat

I might catch you with your pants down

Razor blade your Adam's apple

Oh it is a funky circumstance now cause it is 187

Got away with the loot

You was the homie that you know me

I had to shoot

'Cause you was the only one that knew

I ain't built for no 25 to life

See I'm a little **** thinking big (big)

Making money of these gigs

If you try to stop that

On my momma you could get did

Yo momma looking at the casket like it is a baby in the crib

**** you said you never did no dirt

Feelings get hurt, murder expert

With almost too much Loot

If you there, you gotta die too

Too much shit going around

**** be telling and **** be talking and walking

Solo I come

No radio, pager, walkie talkie, communication

I'm loving my murder sensation