Raekwon Dangerous Lyrics

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Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
You know the deal, *****
Sha what's good *****?
Lex Diamond, your big brother here, you know
Let's work this **** out, man
Yeah, yeah, yeah, aiyo, aiyo

Fresh out the jungle where the blue boys run
We carry rugers, smoking toast on your throat like oolas
Hitting reefer, playing my square, windbreaker jacket
Holding my bear, rock and roll in my Lear
I have to eat, gun carefully, let the cocaine bling
Strings is nothing, get your hoe clapped, king
We hundred burners, onion turners, all this, came out the yard
With twenty five to lifers, loving my squad
You know the gun show off, whips is gleaming, clean as a ****
In dirty hallways, the ninas'll cluck
This is crime station, my obligation is to look raw as ever
Feed my little sons and patients
Cause they hungry, shining, bullet fly right through the lining
Catch me on the plane, humble and wining
Feeding me, fresh *****s, downtown, Brooklyn in them brook lands
Is Timbed up, looking for them jookes, with my miss and

Yo, the streets is a part of me
What you witnessing now is don archery
Pack a lambskin hostler, one of these rocks'll soft you over
You ain't nothing, you'se a ***** *** poser
Fiends on your face, on the T-shirt, thinking that you envy the P
Underneath'll be R.I.P.
That's what you get, yo, for being so cocky
Two guns, thumbs up, for me and my posse

Yo, what's the science, little *****? Yo, you beefing too hard
I throw five in your Champ hood, and envy your squad
You try to stick out your ****ing hand, nah, I don't want no dap, *****
****ing lucky you ain't get glammed
***** *** *****, you wrong, yo, you mingle with rats
The other day you got caught with the gat, *****
How you home, *****? Why you even up in my square?
Like you get busy, got the block hot and stare
Fresh coffins fast, they spitting, y'all fake *****es
Snitches get mad love, hundred and eight stitches
My condolences, word life, if they can find you a real killa
Someone close is singing like the Jonases
Crime Stoppers, the tips keep pouring in
For a G, you be suprised who's going in
Block huggers, the ones who be holding they jock
And suck my ****, the real **** lovers


Y'all can call me cook up or come back
My flow hot, my hood hot, cause of one rat
My block on fire cause of one match
I spit with paper like thumbstacks,
These cougars wanna play all these
Young cats with *****, turning boys to men, so I resort to the pen
But at the same time, I'm pointing the pen
And now it's game time, *****, you in? You better thicken your skin
Move with your peoples through the thick and the thin
I watch for po-po, they raiding the crib
And I ain't trying to get jammed, and have the next man raising my kids
God forbid, dudes be hating on his, because a ***** go hard
And hit 'em harder then they saying they is
But that's just New York, I carry the torch, just long enough
To light a Newport and carry this thought
**** what you thought, the bigger the boss, bigger the cost
They don't know about the Tribe of Shabazz, *****s is lost


Written by: James Todd Smith, Rick Rubin
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

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