Im Raw Lyrics – Fabolous

(Raw, raw, raw, raw) Hahaha
(Raw, raw, raw, raw) I got you
(Raw, raw, raw, raw) R.I.P. to the competition, yeah
(Raw, raw, raw, raw) Split these niggas to the raw meat

Bitch, I’m raw! So you hearing that any nigga out-cook me (What?)
As suspect as R. Kelly with Girl Scout cookies (Hahaha)
When you’re talking to a pro, watch your mouth, rookie (Watch your mouth)
Go in your shit, have your teeth playing mouth hooky
(Nice!) You niggas must have heard me wrong
I blame them horses when I turn that Porsche Turb-y on (Vroom-vroom!)
My engine getting its Kentucky Derby on
Seats is brunette (What else?), paint is dirty blonde (Woo!)
Speaking of dirty blonde, say “Hi” to Curvy Don (Sup, doll?)
Fergie jawn with the body movement of a turbillon
I just watch her, it’s been a hectic year
So I sit and get fried, call the weed “electric chair”
But y’all on Death Row, one request left (Bet)
You’re looking for your girl? Oh, she just left (Tahaha)
Her and my dick just became BFFs
Then I threw her out like Jazzy J-E-F-F
I’m raw-dog, y’all safe sex
You dicks belong in latex, not tape decks (Haha)
You can’t see me; neither can the flunkies under you (No)
My shit bananas, like a monkey number-two (That’s the shit)
I’m bigger than tha— more like gorilla, though
Nickname: “Funeral” (Uh-huh)—got that from this killer flow (Uh-huh)
Everyhing’s still a go (Yeah), my pockets be extra fat (Yeah)
Big money on deck, like A-Rod’s next to bat
Shit, somebody contact the tabloids
I’m a big deal like a contract from Bad Boy
Yeah, it’s all good baby, baby!
My swag plays a big part, so it’s all gravy
We hit the club like Nino and the CMB (Yeah)
Pretty mixed bitch: I just call her “PMB” (Yeah)
Watch your step, baby, getting out that GMC (Woo!)
You bust your ass, girl, we both gon’ be on TMZ (Woo!)
Don’t be shy—let them cameras expose you (Know why?)
The worst that can happen is I Amber Rose you (What else?)
People running up like, “Damn, I knows you!
Hey, ain’t you…?” Yeah, I am that bitch
Six feet deep, nigga—yeah, I am that ditch (Ugh)
Throw it in the bag in a recession—I am that rich (Ugh!)
I’m under close watch, niggas got binoculars
I ain’t what’s popping, bitch; I’m what’s popular
If I’m the one to go at, nigga, what’s stopping you?
I call my gun “Nadia,” and I be finger-popping her
Keep that bitch cumming, like, “Blocka, blocka”
Go to your head like a shot of vodka
Rock a sick fit—call a doctor, partner
You’d think I had a Gucci deal: Waka Flocka
Yeah, I’m too fucking raw (What you say?)
Yeah, you heard me—I’m too fucking raw
(Raw, raw, raw, raw) Funeral
(Raw, raw, raw, raw)
(Raw, raw, raw)
(Raw, raw, raw, raw)
(Raw, raw, raw)