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Ras Kass

Air 'Em Out

 

Air 'Em Out

(album: Institutionalized - 2005)


Jea! Re-Up! A J-Classic classic. Razzy... rest in peace Justo
I'm about to air these niggas out one time

Yo yo, ain't no nigga like the one right here
Spit flames, leave bloodstains on one night gear
G-Star jeans, gun right near
And the homey X just fucked Usher's bitch like "Yeah!"
Dawg I'mma spit the hottest shit
Fuck a dentist, eat a fire department and proctologists
Ras Kass, King of the West, acknowledge this
And get a piece of the rock like meteorogologists
What Dame Dash and hapha is
645 Coupe the same color Chewbacca is
And you's a nigga everybody hates like Jar Jar Binks
That clown at the bar buying hot bitches drinks
And she's passing them to me
What you know about Chinchilla minks? Ten killers deep
Skittle flavored diamonds, first it's blue, then it's pink
Candy painting was off, dog we flooding the streets

I
Will
Not
Lose
I (Re-Up about that fetti)
Will (Load up your Glocks, get ready)
Not
Lose (haha... jea jea jea!)

Hood niggas if your arms up, bear it out
Niggas ain't scared, if it's drama, we gon' air 'em out!
If your whip on chrome, what you caring 'bout?
Drop the top, do a buck 10, dawg, air 'em out!
Who spit flame, nigga never doubts?
No problem, it's nothing, I'mma air 'em out
East, West, up North to the Dirty South (air 'em out)
I'mma (air 'em out), I'mma (air 'em out)

Yo

I keep shit off the chain
Like broken clasp, medallions falling off
And ya'll niggas hoping Ras go play on the freeway
But I'm that agent in the Matrix: Reloaded
Jumping out moving cars, smashing your hoods for the keys, man
And not the ones that open doors
Por fa vor, I'm talking ki, mayne
Silencer on the SPK, fuck BDS them fucking MTV VJ's
R&B singers, new found fact
Got a 9 inch dick, tell your bitch to SoundScan that!
And my Down South cats be like "What it do?"
Cause my little cousin's being Memphis classic blue
And niggas still ga-not ga-knowing as Gary ga-Knew [?]
Plus I'm more Chris Real so long with Big Punished brew
Downstairs in Jimmy's Cafe, album released
Young nigga in the belly, but now I'm a beast
And it's like Sin City, every town holding heat
So I'm like the yellow nigga, kid it's foul when I speak
And my baby moms said I need to cut down on my cheating
Started fucking midgets, kept creeping
You ain't gotta tell me, I know you feeling this shit
I hear what I'm saying I know I'm killing this shit, nigga

Hood niggas if your arms up, bear it out
Niggas ain't scared, if it's drama, we gon' air 'em out!
If your whip on chrome, what you caring 'bout?
Drop the top, do a buck 10, dawg, air 'em out!
Who spit flame, nigga never doubts?
No problem, it's nothing, I'mma air 'em out
East, West, up North to the Dirty South (air 'em out)
I'mma (air 'em out), I'mma (air 'em out)

Sometimes it all seems fucked up though
Rest in peace, cause what's mixtapes without Justo?
Sip the' Grey Goose, thinking about that ride on the Gray Goose
Ankles chained, heading to Beirut
Crucified next to some nigga named Jesus
Died ressurected, busting blue, still trey-deuced
So ya'll niggas better respectognize shits real
When my mixtape's hotter than every album this year

I
Will
Not
Lose
I (Re-Up about that fetti)
Will (Load up your Glocks, get ready)
Not
Lose (haha... jea jea jea!)

Hood niggas if your arms up, bear it out
Niggas ain't scared, if it's drama, we gon' air 'em out!
If your whip on chrome, what you caring 'bout?
Drop the top, do a buck 10, dawg, air 'em out!
Who spit flame, nigga never doubts?
No problem, it's nothing, I'mma air 'em out
East, West, up North to the Dirty South (air 'em out)
I'mma (air 'em out), I'mma (air 'em out)

Fatto

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