Raw Brotha Lynch Hung (Ft. Crooked I)

[Intro: Brotha Lynch Hung]
There's only five emcees in California that spit that raw shit
Real lyrics, nigga
We don't be talkin' that bullshit
Me and Crooked I
We raw

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Better run when we comin' around the corner
Lights out, chopper to chopper is hangin' out the window
Ah, every time you feel the breeze niggas bleed
That mean we killin' niggas whenever the wind blow
Ahh, it's hot, hol-hol-hollow tips meltin' your organs
They hot enough to burn hard steel
First your body tumble around on the ground
Then it slip and you in mid-air, like you doin' cartwheels
Skrt, that's the car wheels
Time to get outta Dodge so I get out the Dodge
Reality's like a bitch who should've swallowed the kids, but
Instead, the mornin' after she gotta swallow the heart pill
Uh, I put the silencer on the nose of the Glock
Now tell me now, how the fuck you hear the gun pop?
The bullet travelin' faster than the speed of sound
So when you heard the sonic boom you thought it was a gunshot
None of you rappers wanna disrespect
When I'm spittin' somethin' like Bizzy Bone mixed with Tech
Somethin' like Busta and Twista, I'm fly 'til I die
Like a pilot in a jet who finger missed eject
Then he hits eject, parachute won't open
Started wrappin' around his throat and then it twist his neck
Meanwhile his dead body is droppin' on top of a miniature yacht
That's how you better hit the deck, 'cause I'm raw ('Cause I'm raw)