Raw Footage Lyrics - Sporty Thievz

Chorus: 

Yo, it's raw footage 

Uncut like four hookers 

We're stealin and killin and ball til the law book us 

We [? ? ? ? ? ] your [? ? ? ? ? ] like 

Uh-oh to y'all crookers 

Like no-gooders 

Keep knockin' if y'all wit' us 

[marlon brando] 

Yo, runnin through life with pharaohs in babylon 

Like serial killers, I'm on some shit they be on 

Hidin' out in lebanon 

House with the intercom 

Niggas is wild john to see the sinister on 

Money like maffia 

[? ? ? ] and [? ? ? ? ] 

til feds get wise on ya 

Change your face move to bosnia 

Czechoslovakia 

With jamal's girl's shape on 

And more make-up on 

Talkin' to liz claiborne 

Marlon brando at the table with the large cat 

Holdin' a raw pack 

Vietnamese straw hat 

Smellin' sex in the lex' 

Contracts with death threats 

Tryin' to stop my breath 

With holes in my left chest 

Marlon, crazy harlem 

Ballin' with nicaraguans 

Plan's complex - enough to shake kuwait squadrons 

Cuban sergeant - you get kissed on both cheeks 

Welcome to the family - if not then where you wan' eat? 

We in the al capone suite - la fam' and my bed lady 

My sweaters shed crazy - 180 below the red avery 

I'm tryin' to see dynasty 

And ain't nothin' stoppin me 

From private property 

With the glass roof on top of me 

Cut, cut! 

Chorus x2 

[big dubez] 

Uh, uh, raw footage nigga, sporty thievs, big dubez, uh-huh, big dubez, check it... uh oh! 

Check it - 

It's hard to shake these demons after me 

When all I want is more cream than master p 

Big d-u-b, man it's never easy 

Being a c-z-a-r 

Feel me, play-er? 

A million ways to eat - do you know what they are? 

You wit' the a-team or is you hatin' like they are? 

Fuck em all - red my rings, dread my stings 

Dead my flings - cop ? and spread my wings 

See, life's a bitch and I hit er for one thing 

Long-dick her til I hear her sing 

ch-ching ch-ching! 

Busta bus' made it clear to me 

Rob a club, put your hands where my eyes can see 

Leave em there 

Nigga outsmart me? I ain't the one you can smart-out 

And that box you layin' in, nigga? it's where you left a part out 

Nigga, eat your heart out 

Either forfeit or hold it 

All you hearin' is them thief motherfuckers, yo they stole it 

Chorus x2 

[king kirk] 

Yeah - it's that steel bird nigga - king kirk ass nigga - sporty thievs motherfuckers - yeah - y'all niggas is crazy, straight up - how we gon' do this? which one of y'all niggas think you can 

Around? you? 

Niggas wake up, so we can get this cake up 

Sums we can break up 

And hold so much weight we take space up 

Stay truck 

Mad hoes stay fucked - say what? 

I'm in y'all bitch niggas face like make-up 

Straight up - we can spar til we see allah 

Or take it to the fdr til one of us wrecks they car 

A matter of fact, we can scrap on the traintracks 

And the loser lays flat and get his frame smacked 

what's your name, black? 

Most niggas call me selfish 

but when I get this grape eight with purple thongs, call me welch's 

Kirk's the type did a perp' with your wife 

On turnpikes with dirtbikes 

No shirts, with ice 

Word life - so hot I could flame-throw 

Chain glow - like sunshowers, so when it's bright the ice rainbow(bling!) 

Cats is wired like phone poles 

Instead of throwin' blows 

They let chrome go 

And duck po-po 

And play low-pro 

In the next state 

til jake see em in the lake with eight in they chest-plate 

Niggas test weight when you play they hood like it's all good 

Start blowin' like suge and your dashboard's all wood 

Rims 18 inch 

And your boys switch cars 

Like rich stars 

Drinkin' liquor in strip bars 

Puffin' cigars 

You won't get far - fore they stop you 

Watch you, then bop through on a late night and pop you(bow!) 

Brag they shot you and celebrate 

Make their props elevate - from featherweight to heavyweight 

I know cats that talk with they mouths closed like garfield 

Speak on hard steel 

That'll make you cartwheel over the guard-rail 

Cut, cut, cut, cut! 

Niggas can't fuck around, cut, cut! 

Chorus x2 

[tragedy khadafi] 

Yeah, yeah... 

Sporty thievs... 

Iron sheiks... 

Q.b.... 

Yo, yo yo yo yo... 

Yo, it's funny how the world revolve around cream 

On the streets you was a king with one team 

Now you're in a cell praying to the unseen 

Drag queen - murderous thugs and foul schemes 

Gettin' your back torn out with loud screams 

While I'm on the scene with rings and nice things 

Nothing compares to the heat my gat' bring 

Swervin' - black suburban. wrapped in turban 

Puttin' work in - pop charts plus the urban 

Niggas love it - hear my shit and wanna thug it 

Have y'all niggas goin' to war, tryin' to slug it 

Sporty thievs - iron sheiks and ski beats 

Go together - like dimes and silk sheets 

Still creep - daishiki get left leaky 

Who you wit? thug shit wit' [? ? ? ? ? ] 

Mahdi - q.b. - el-khadafi 

Holdin' plastic 89s in a drop three 

Yeah - (who you wit? ) - iron sheiks, sporty thievs, y'all niggas know