R.A.G.U.

Lyrics for R.A.G.U.

Hold it Now you get out of here, I'm warning you You bastards can't push us around, wanna fight? I'll take you on That nigga's twisted, stop playin' with that clip man Close them fuckin' blinds too man, y'knahmsayin'? Yo, Don my, man, get out of the stove, man Get away from the stove, nigga Stop playin' man, the fuck is you talkin' 'bout? I'm in the crib watchin' Larry King Live The new Guccis on refrigerator, smokin' some kush This nigga's a lighter swisher, becomin' a roach Go get the glass ashtray, pour the glass of Crut Tap the bottle then toast Barrie took a sip for the cause, yeah my son Soon to be three, tried to fill his bottle then run Then I got a collect call, heard niggaz down the block is fightin' Some nigga got, knifed up brawlin' Heard the kid was nineteen, Lil' Infinity too His father worked up at the dealer, he loved boo They tried him for his Louis', son wasn't havin' it though Yeah, yeah, my nigga, the color of glue Decided on a intervene, guess who tried to wild on me my nigga This is like out of the blue I'm in the Range stretch, jumped out, tucked the chain Proceeded to talk to him, then you heard the heavy face slap Think I broke my wrist, now I'm at the hospital vexed Fucked up my writing hand, that's my check Now I wanna kill this lil' nigga true Only thing that stop my gun flamin' 'cause he related to you Who? He ain't related to me Just that I knew him for like eighteen years until he violated Stealin' my gear If my lil' homey, yo he eat anything for me Send him uptown, he get bagged, yo he never call me Come home and still blow cats for me Pump crack, stabbin' all them hoodrat shorties A live gunslinger well known, born to dance when the heat is on Stapleton days, shoot himself in the groin' The gun went off, it looked like a flick When he fell to the floor, holdin' his nuts Screamin' "God damnit, shit I put one in my balls" What the fuck y'all lookin' at me for? Call the police, do somethin' Motherfuckers standin' around, watch when I get better All hell's gonna be terror Death to you, you," he pointed at Red I said chill that's fam duke He put real work in that make you cute, fuck that But anyway, son, indeed, he stole two Polo rugbies Swore to his dead mother, I couldn't take it Yo, Lord, I knocked out his teeth Now he's rockin' those false joints like everything's peace