Letra de I'm So Raw

[Verso 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?

[Verso 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

[Conclusi�n]
Dont talk to me, I'm not your friend
I'm just a fan of a fan
I love all my fans though