Artist: ScHoolboy Q Album: Habits & Contradictions Song: Raymond 1969 Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Intro] Yeah, yeah, yeahhhh! Uhh, yeah uhh {"Yooooooou betta watch yo' step!"} [ScHoolboy Q] They say the gangster's back, kid got a heart attack Straight out insomniac, let's get this fucker live (yeah) (Yeah yeah) Loadin up pistols while gettin high 45 nine, we smokin, sittin in nickels and dimes My little nigga twelve said he with it yeah Gave him a sherm stick and watched him while he hit it Soon as he lit it cuz 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 comma, nor a cent, for the karma kust 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 We fuckin make a killin, but I ain't dyin up in prison A fully loaded clip my brain up to the ceiling, YAKA YAK [Chorus] Money-money hoes, clothes, nigga that's all we know (on my mom'n'nem) Murder-murder kill, get your fuckin cap peeled (I put that on my mom'n'nem) Fear around here, I smell death around here (around here, on my mom'n'nem) Don't be snoopin round here, get dogged around here (I put that on my mom'n'nem) [ScHoolboy Q] They say 20-12 the world gon' end but shit it been over since Raymond recruited soldiers 1969, evolution of devil's time Ain't walkin up in no shrine, shit I'm livin a life of crime Pops never gave a chance my mom cryin She can see it in my eyes, I lost my mind Sneakin out the window with angel dust in my indo Keys to her ignition new mission you bet-ter limbo hoe Fire pits left 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 (Yeah nigga~!) But they worry about Osama Blood and Crip niggaz lifetime of Jeffery Dahmer's Flashy for the moment I'm on it I pop your collar Suicidal when fuckin with these young wild connivers We rivals [Chorus] [ScHoolboy Q] Didn't learn too much in school but done I learned some shit Thirty-six a kilo, twenty-eight grams a zip Uhh, from pot brownies and white cookies Cops'll pat me down but won't touch on my girl's tushy Fuck they sent the lady cop, they tryin to 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 motherfuckin robbin spree Probably be televised, bitch I want the world to see Now you dumb fuckers heard of me 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 sendin copper galore Bodies, hit the floor, God knows I'm playing lord For sure [Chorus] [Outro] Make money, make money-money-money Take money, take money-money-money Make money, steal money-money-money Kill money, my money-money-money~!!