Raw Meat

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung] 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 nigga 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 Nigga 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 Niggas be telling and niggas be talking and walking Solo I come No radio, pager, walkie talkie, communication I'm loving my murder sensation