I'm So Raw

[Verse 1] Look I'm so raw, turn the oven on Chef Papa John, I get the Parmesan She want a yellow nigga, corn on the cob Indian giver, slob on my knob The bitch blow hard, harder than some halls Here take 'em all, you'll be straight in the morn I'm two peace gone, I'm never gon' call Fly nigga, I don't wear it if its in the mall Seen it on the blogs, these motherfuckers cost Yves Saint Laurent, you can tell by the fonts I do what I want, wake up when its lunch Walk like I'm drunk, swagga so uh Goyard trunks go around I got a bunch Tell TSA bitch, get up out my stuff I wouldn't recommend you to ever check him in I started with the end so when do I begin? [Verse 2] I'm so raw, turn the oven on Chef Papa John, I get the parmesan Pocket full of paper, underage in casinos You wanna see ID, oh? But I'm in the suite though Here my room-key go, room moving slow-mo Fans want a photo, but it's my turn to roll Hold up baby hold those, you see I'm chilling dolo Lens with a logo, pinky ring Frodo I'm feeling my self, no homo Hold that beat, poor that more roso Rosé, you bozos, couldn't speak what I'm on You would need Rosetta Stone All these niggas all clones, we be originals Young Money seminoles, tribe full of generals Don't ask me shit, Unless it's in a interview Nigga, unless it's in a interview [Outro] Dont talk to me, I'm not your friend I'm just a fan of a fan I love all my fans though