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Raekwon The Chef

Genres: Hip-Hop

Pop Shit Lyrics - Raekwon The Chef

Keep everything on 

Blaze always 

Nigga this only nineteen thousand 

yo check this shit out 

I want my thousand dollars now 

I don't give a fuck 

I went up in the club 

And like a thousand niggas 

A thousand chicks 

Was doing the James Brown 

Get the fuck out of here 

I'm like, oh shit 

You lying, you lying 

Shit was real son 

Stop lying man 

Cream team walked in 

We started doing it 

Wild man 

Feel me? 

So what happened, let me on 

 

Aea yo, aea yo, aea yo 

Electric slide on them niggaz 

Drive by on them niggaz 

Show 'em that killers is live and fly figures 

Fruit flavored Nikes 

Now I'm in a six hundred white piece 

Send half my love out to wife 

Fillin' out tax reports 

Lookin' live up in guess shorts 

Bitches show love and support 

Table teaspoons 

Fake goons with balloons shit it out 

Make room 

How them niggas ate strait tunes yo 

Horror flick scriptures 

Godfather flicks 

Superfriends equal foul niggas 

Bar miss you'll flip yo 

Aim the nozzle 

With the head brace the bottle 

Get your dang licked 

Six thousand square feet 

Paid shit 

Stretch Auroras in Florida 

Kilo's comin' out of water 

Watch me slaughter 

Take your daughter over yo 

Space shit 

Boat across your shit 

Cargo shit 

Well Fargo got Renaldos shit 

Reclining chair 

Drunk billionaire 

Willie like a bear 

The whole block suck cock on a leap year 

No remorse 

Heavy plaque red and white 

Eddie Bauer jaws 

'Bout the bitch smack five out of yours 

Pens bleeding 

Got my shit soft 

Figure like Ike Frost 

Icy chain 

Cop and hangin' on a horse 

Lames laws 

Got your name crossed 

You cannot claim boss 

Unless he kiss braid hair 

That ain't yours 

Fly statistics lystics 

Slang optimistic 

Two bats a tie and a biscuit 

Kissed it 

Diamond on the wrist kid 

Misfit 

Bought it like a ten dollar outfit 

Pop shit get your house lit 

Straight up 

The route mouse shit 

Get your style shit 

I announced it 

Slang lordy yo 

Staring at my man, Gordy Laury 

The bitch bought 'em on 

She'll reward me 

Flossed it, cost it, tossed it 

The same main source shit 

You at the barbeque eatin' horse dick 

Sneak up link up 

Nigga, tie your sneaker 

You wink what 

Speed it up 

Caught you in that beaten-up truck it was luck 

Fuck page your uncle thirty bucks 

Ran in your shit 

Blew you with your hands in your nuts 

Louis 

Thats the same crew as those 

Millwakee brewers 

Rocking Wu shoes with Kaoluas 

Time for lotti 

Bald Gotti here 

Don't make me throw shots trough your body 

Everybody out of here 

Thats my word 

God through Shakespeare here 

Take me there 

Get your fastened 

And take clear 

Its so real we might face years 

Cuddled up in HDM's 

Chill baby on and a nigga here 

You start screamin' and your scared 

And shorty came on last year 

And lapped danced my man for a wack pair 

ill I smell it in your hair 

My faculties remained clear 

Pussy in a refrigerator back here 

Damn watch your mouth 

Hear it on the air 

Like a grand prize 

Freak nigga that taps shit 

Writer:

Copyright: Wu-tang Publishing, Inc.;universal Music-careers