No I.D. - I'm So Raw lyrics

[Verse 1] Look I'm so raw, turn the oven on Chef Papa John, I get the Parmesan She want a yellow n***a, corn on the cob Indian giver, slob on my knob The b**h 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 n***a, I don't wear it if its in the mall Seen it on the blogs, these motherf**ers 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 b**h, 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? [Verse 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 h*mo Hold that beat, poor that more roso Rosé, you bozos, couldn't speak what I'm on You would need Rosetta Stone All these n***as all clones, we be originals Young Money seminoles, tribe full of generals Don't ask me sh**, Unless it's in a interview n***a, unless it's in a interview [Outro] Dont talk to me, I'm not your friend I'm just a fan of a fan I love all my fans though