Uncut Raw - AZ

No need for Lato’s, pure straight out Bolivia

Peru, uncut baby, what?

Life is a struggle, that’s why niggas I know stay on the juggle

Some hustle to double, others hug you to mug you

Poverty-stricken, they even turn a church kid into stickin

It seems sickenin, but what?

Whatever makes the pockets thickin

Fuck police and no remorse for the beasts

that’s lost on the streets, that pistol whip a priest for a crosspiece

Some lost sheep, runnin thru strips, thinkin of top dealers

Fillin Tek clips, wit 'cop killers’that could stop gorillas

Shovin a stubnose in buttholes, I’m nutso

skitzo, clepto, killin shit up throughout the metro

My thug essence will always keep me plugged with drug investments

Sketch my reference, takin papers considered preference

And violations will lead to kidnappin, decapitation

So what you’re facin, is realism that’s in activation

Livin off land with five honeys playin my hand

Me and fam, sippin off Guinness stout and eatin clams

It’s all part of plans, a vet chillin in Tamps, West and Stans

Outta state connect, slugs, sex, drugs and grands

Hook:

What?

For my Height niggas (Uncut)

Trife niggas (Raw), 25-to-life niggas

This is as, pure as opium, purified for street players to open em space, like three els laced with coke in em Shots awoken em, fake uniform takes the portion of six trips, to young clips and killers coachin em However though, fake ass

niggas'll never know

Cos my method’s perfected, I’m movin sceptic and never show

I’m soon to blow, stack doe, lay on the low

While I’m sippin Cristal, I mess with Long Island and Moe

A part of nature, me wan’acres in Jamaica

Puffin exotic trees without seeds rolled up in leaf paper

So exhale, cos if I don’t live to tell

then fuck it, if well, I’ll see the rest of y’all niggas in hell

Hook

So all my good fellas, heroin, coke and weed sellers

What the fuck cats can tell us if they ain’t got bread to bail us?

Happy to survive, I haven’t seen it all, Peter pay Paul

>From the connivers to the livest, they crack fool

It’s all war, the streets are filled up with guns galore

Plenty young for war, gettin their minds flunked and sore

Yo dun, cock the 4…

Motherfuckers think we’re playin, back em down

Holdin niggas for high stitches, what?

What?