Schoolboy Q
Schoolboy Q - Raymond 1969 lyrics
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[Verse 1] They say the gangsters back, kid got a heart attack Straight out insomniac, let's get this fucker live Loadin up pistols while gettin high 45 nine, we smoking sitting in nickels and dimes My little nigga 12 said he with it, yeah Gave him a sherm stick and watched him while he hit it Soon as he lit it cause was finished, now cock back the gat Little mask and gloves, let's get to buisiness But they worry about Osama Killed a bitch nigga and get his family manana Didn't get a coma nor a cent for the karma Just an imaginary stripe so he can hold his head in honor Zombie land a bunch of dead men walkin Livin abortion they oughta raise the price on coffins Fucking make a killing but I ain't dying up in prison Fully loaded clip my brain up to the ceiling Money-money, hoes, clothes, nigga that's all we know Murder-murder, kill get your fucking cap peeled Fear around here, I smell death around here Don't be snooping 'round here, get dogged around here They say 2012 the world gon end Shit it been over since Raymond recruited soldiers 1969 evolution of devils time Ain't walking up in no shrine shit I'm living a life of crime Pops never gave a chance my mom crying She can see it in my eyes, I lost my mind Sneakin out the window with angel dust in my endo Keys to her ignition new mission ya betta limbo Fire pits let to eject I hardly miss Nigga ditch sleep on my dog ain't that a bitch? And I ain't on my Odd Future tip But snatch a nigga intestines from his nose and tell his ass to shit But they worry about Osama Blood and Crip niggas lifetime of Jeffery Dhamers Flashy for the moment I'm on it I pop your collar Suicidal ain't fucking with these young connivers, we rivals Didn't learn to much in school But out I learned some shit, 36 a kilo 28 grams a zip Pot brownies and white cookies Cops'll pat me down but won't touch on my girls tooshi Fuck they sent the lady cop they tryna book me All else fails balloon packs tampon that pussy Back to the set to laugh about it and get it off Lobster tails and butter sauce same clothes still a boss On a mothafuckin' robbing spree Probably be televised, bitch I want the world to see Now you dumb fuckas heard of him Sickest nigga out I found out that blood's burgundy But they worry about Osama 9/11 passengers ain't seen this type of drama Vietnam wars I'm sending copper galore Bodies hit the floor god knows I'm playing lord for sure Make money, make money-money-money Take money, take money-money-money Make money, steal money-money-money Kill money, my money-money-money