Raw

[Intro] (spoken, low & cocky over sparse hi-hats) Yeah… mic check. She walked in lookin’ like a whole fuckin’ problem. Name’s Raw. Let’s go head to toe, bitch. [Verse 1] Hair first — silk press so sharp it could slice the air, Jet-black waterfall, coconut oil scent everywhere, Edges laid like she prayed over ‘em, baby hairs curled tight, One head-turn and the whole room catches frostbite. Makeup beat for the gods, contour carved in marble, Highlighter wet enough to make the mirrors argue, Brows on fleek, arched like they throwin’ shade first, Foundation flawless, coverin’ sins and every curse. Outfit painted on — leather pants creakin’ with every step, Crop top sayin’ “look but don’t touch” in bold-ass text, Lingerie peeks lace-black, dangerous under the fit, Thong string high, like a warning shot she just lit. Jewelry loud — Cuban links thick as regrets, Diamond tennis bracelets catchin’ light like cigarette hits, Handbag Birkin, crocodile mean, swingin’ like a weapon, Glasses cat-eye, frames so sharp they cut the tension. [Verse 2] Nails stiletto long, blood-red, click-clack death threats, Eyes smoky quartz, bedroom and murder in the same breath, Lipstick matte crimson, then lip gloss on top so thick, Mouth lookin’ like fresh sin, wet enough to make saints sick. She gloss that pout, smack it once, the sound cracks the beat, Every word drippin’ sticky, every bar a heat-seek. Shoes — red bottoms stiletto blades, 6-inch guillotines, Walk like the floor owes her money, clickin’ guillotine dreams. Anklets silver, tiny bells that jingle “you’re next,” Rings stacked on every finger, gold knuckles for the flex, One pinky rock big enough to blind the whole front row, And the watch — iced-out Rolex, because she got time today, ho. She ain’t rushin’ shit, she own the clock, own the room, own the air, Second hand sweepin’ slow while these bitches gasp for prayer. Tick-tock, your time’s up, her time’s forever on display, She got hours to destroy you and still look perfect either way. [Bridge] (half-time, rolling hi-hats, voice dripping disdain) From the crown to the sole she a walking crime scene, Every detail loaded, every accessory mean. You could try to copy the drip but the aura don’t fake, She the original Raw — y’all just cheap remakes. [Verse 3] (double-time pocket, Iggy bounce) Hair smellin’ like victory, makeup war-paint fresh, Outfit hug every curve like it signed a blood oath, no less, Lingerie secret weapon, jewelry loud as gun talk, Handbag heavy with secrets, glasses spottin’ every fraud. Nails ready to claw, eyes ready to freeze, Lips ready to spit venom wrapped in cherry grease, Shoes ready to stomp graves, anklets singin’ your fate, Rings ready to flash while the watch says you too late. She got time today — time to body this track, Time to leave your rep in a body bag, no comeback, Time to twirl that ice, time to laugh in slow-mo, Time to remind the whole game why they still can’t touch Raw, yo. [Outro] (fading 808s, smug chuckle) Head to toe… Undefeated. Raw. click