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~!!