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c-rayz walz - whodaf**kareyou (street) كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1: c-rayz walz]
f-ck alarm clocks—battle me, you’ll start waking up
i slice you with your rhyme book and write verses on your paper cuts
with alcohol pads. excuses you be making up
sound dumb like outkast breaking up
last time you shot somebody, you had a camera
i’m c-rayz, the author of stamina
lounging on the walls, you’ll end up like humpty dumpty
get your sh-ll cracked, scrambled, and served with something
the narcissist. i bomb quick
you’re full of sh-t like sausages—pardon this
i alone turn crews into the partridge kids
i love games—i’ll play you like bragging right cartridges
y’all against me is dragons versus ostriches: totally preposterous
like abortions, i k!ll stupid kids before they act up
make your new suit flip, call it a back tux
you cracked up like baseheads in a sp-ce ship
playing skellzies in the matrix, the only thing i lose is my patience
and smack the sh-t 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 sh-t in your house and blame it on your moms
surviving the game. when i get money, i’m buying a chain
driving a range and my flame will expire your fame
i’m coming through. loading one, bucking two
i’m c-rayz walz, son. whodaf-ckareyou?

[hook: c-rayz walz]
yo, yo, yo, i’m trucking through with my ruckus crew. your luck is through
yo, i’m c-rayz walz. whodaf-ckareyou?
i’m coming through, fifth knuckle bruise, brick fist snuffing you
yo, i’m c-rayz walz. whodaf-ckareyou?
yo, i’m trucking through with my ruckus crew. your luck is through
yo, i’m c-rayz walz. whodaf-ckareyou?
i’m coming through, fifth knuckle bruise, brick fist snuffing you
yo, i’m c-rayz walz. whodaf-ckareyou?
whodaf-ckisyou? whodaf-ckareyou? whodaf-ckisyou? whodaf-ckareyou? whodaf-ckisyou?
c-rayz walz, plain pat

[verse 2: c-rayz walz]
some people must get jacked
my repertoire from back: smacking cats with gats on impact
just like that, we festered like bubbling cuts
doubling up. now funny cats get f-cked up for mumbling stuff
thunderous trucks roll up. i’m just playing with this
every line explosive. my pen broken up but
still smoking, stroking, thrust. f-ck closing shows
my frozen flows is hot, let me open up
like arabian referees who yell sesame plus
i spread through the industry with leprosy cuts, effectively strut
put a hole in one the second we putt
you so p-ssy you come from my rib, you son of a gut
lying–ss rappers, duck. i’m the lightning-struck
blazing like we lighting a dutch master stuck
at the mason-dixon line, twisting lime in a cup
get your mind f-cked up while your nine in the truck
even my producer know math with his caucasian -ss, so
just because you say, “peace,” don’t mean i won’t blast, stupid
you gotta show and prove it. brothers live and die for this music
don’t do it for amus-m-nt
ghetto hi-top, blaze you for your hydrox
put glocks on my irish clock and watch my eyes pop
chickenhead, i dead your livestock
do a song with charles dutton to see how i rock

[outro: c-rayz walz]
what, what, what?!? yo, me and plain pat go way back. like spines on a scale. i’m bucking through with my ruckus crew. me and plain pat. you don’t understand this? yo, whodaf-ckareyou? stupid. c-rayz walz. this is my destiny, regardless of how you feeling. (coming through, bucking two with my ruckus crew. coming through, bucking two with my ruckus crew. coming through, bucking two with my ruckus crew. coming through, bucking two with my ruck… coming through, coming through, coming through, coming through). yo, whodaf-ck?

- c rayz walz

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