Whodafukareyou?

[Verse 1] Fuck alarm clocks—battle me, you'll start wakin’ up I slice you with your rhyme book and write verses on your paper cuts With alcohol pads, excuses you'll be makin’ up Sound dumb like Outkast breakin’ up Last time you shot somebody, you had a camera I'm C-Rayz, the author of stamina Loungin’ on the walls, you end up like Humpty Dumpty Get your shell cracked, scrambled, and served with something I'm a narcissist. I bomb quick. You’re full of shit like sausages—pardon this I alone turn crews into the Partridge kids I love games—I play you like bragging right cartridges Y'all against me is dragons versus ostriches Totally preposterous. Like abortions, I kill stupid kids before they act up Make a new suit flip, call it a black tux You cracked up like baseheads in a space ship Playin’ Skelly in the Matrix, the only thing I lose is my patience I smack the shit out you tissue heads Once the missile set, you see I’m official bread Hip hop Don, deep into stocks and bonds I'll take a shit in your house and blame it on your moms Survivin’ the game. When I get money, I’m buyin’ a chain Drivin’ a Range and my flame will expire your fame I'm comin’ through. Loaded one, buckin’ two I'm C-Rayz Walz, son. Who da fuck are you? [Hook] (x2) Ayo yo yo, I’m truckin’ through with my ruckus crew, your luck is through Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou? I'm comin’ through, fifth knuckle bruise, brick fist snuffin’ you Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou? Who da fuck is you (x5) C-Rayz Walz, Plain Pat [Verse 2] Some people must get jacked My repertoire from back: smackin’ cats wit gats on impact Just like that, we festered like bubblin’ cuts Doublin’ up—now, funny cats get fucked up for bumblin’ stuff The nearest truck rolled up. I’m just playin’ wit this Every line explosive. My pen broken up but Still smokin’, strokin’, thrust. Fuck closin’ shows My frozen flows is hot, let me open up Like Arabian referees who yell sesame plus I'll spread through the industry with leprosy cuts Effectively strut, put a hole in one the second we putt You so pussy you come from a rib, you son of a gut Lining ass rappers up, I'm the lightning struck Blazin’ like we lightin’ a Dutch Masters up At the Mason-Dixon line, twistin’ lime in a cup Get your mind fucked up while your nine in the truck Even my producer know math with his Caucasian ass so Just because you say, “Please,” don’t mean I won't blast, stupid You gotta show and prove it. Brothas live and die for this music Don’t do it for amusement Ghetto hi-top, blaze you for your hydrox Put Glocks on my Irish clock and watch my eyes pop Chicken head, I dead your livestock Do a song with Charles Dutton to see how I rock [Hook] (x2) Ayo yo yo, I’m truckin’ through with my ruckus crew, your luck is through Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou? I'm comin’ through, fifth knuckle bruise, brick fist snuffin’ you Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou? Who da fuck is you (x5) C-Rayz Walz, Plain Pat [Outro] What, what?!? Yo, me and Plain Pat go way back. Like spines on a scale. I’m fuckin’ through with my ruckus crew. Me and Plain Pat. You don’t understand this? Yo, WhoDaFuckAreYou? Stupid. C-Rayz Walz. This is my destiny, regardless of how you feelin’