Whodafukareyou Songtext / Lyric

Fuck alarm clocks, battle me you'll start wakin up

I slice you with your rhyme book and write verses on your paper cuts

With alcohol pads, excuses you'll be makin up

Sound dumb like Outkast breakin up

Last time you shot somebody, you had a camera

I'm C - Rayz author of stamina



Loungin on the walls you'll end up like Humpty Dumpty

With your shell cracked, scrambled, in search of something

I'm a narcisist, I bomb quick, your full of shit like sausages, pardon this

I alone turn crews into the Partridge kids

I love games I play you like bragin right cartridges






Y'all against me is dragons versus ostriches

Totally proposturous, like abortions, i kill stupid kids before they act up

Make a new suit flip call it a black tux

You cracked up like baseheads in a space ship

Playin? in the matrix, the only thing i lose is my patience

I smack the shit out you tissue heads

???

Hip Hop Don deep into stocks and bonds

I'll take a shit in your house, and blame it on your moms

Survivin the game when i get money im buyin a chain

Drivin a Range and my flame will expire your fame

I'm comin through loaded one, buckin two

I'm C-Rayz Walz son who da fuck are you?

[Chorus X2]

Ayo yo yo im truckin through with my ruckus crew, your luck is through

Yo im C-Rayz Walz WhoDaFuckAreYou?

I'm comin through fifth knuckle bruise brick fist snuffin you

Yo im C-Rayz Walz WhoDaFuckAreYou?



Who da fuck is you [x5]

C-Rayz Walz plain Pat



Some people must get jacked

My repatoire from back smackin cats wit gats on impact

Just like that we festered like bubble in cuts

Doublin up now funny cats get fucked up for mumblin stuff

The nearest truck rolled up im just playin wit this

Every line explosive my pen broken up but

Still smokin strokin thrust, fuck closin shows

My? flows is hot, let me open up



Like Arabian referees who yell sesame plus

I'll spread through the industry with leprosy cuts

Effectivley strut, put a hole in one the second we putt

You so pussy you come from a rib you son of a gut



Lining ass rappers up, I'm the lightning struck

Blazin like we lightin a Dutch Masters up

At the Mason-Dixon line twistin lime in a cup

Get your mind fucked up while your nine in the truck

Even my producer know math with his caucasion ass so

Just because you say please doesn't mean i won't blast stupid



You gotta show and prove it, brothas live and die for this music

Dont do it for amusement

Ghetto hi-top blaze you for your hydrox

Put glocks on my Irish clock and watch my eyes pop

Chicken head, i dead your livestock

Do a song with Charles Dutton to see how i rock

[Chorus]