This is a song about "Matty raw"

Shoes, louis, prada, groupie blah blah

U wanted to eat me absolute raw

New grove, still bitches don't know this a flaw

Battle y'all raw metaphors slicing law

And we don't know no right from wrong

And hardcore raw metaphors so get drawn

Y’all baptist cheats and catholic priests had to be raw,

My momma a og which makes me a don dada

Imagery, i paint pictures, stay sicker, i tore this raw,

Cause youse a down ass bitch, and i ain't mad at cha

It takes a nation of millions, public enemy would spit it raw,

But instead i got a sister, just like me with her mister nada

And break your bones the way i do, come raw

Ok i’m wale but you can call me nada

I ain't mad at cha

Kicks new, my denim, raw