C-Rayz Walz - Whodafukareyou? [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
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, the author of stamina
Loungin’ on the walls, you end up like Humpty Dumpty
Get your shell cracked, scrambled, and served with something
I'm a narcissist. I bomb quick. You’re full of shit like sausages—pardon this
I alone turn crews into the Partridge kids
I love games—I play you like bragging right cartridges
Y'all against me is dragons versus ostriches
Totally preposterous. 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’ Skelly in the Matrix, the only thing I lose is my patience
I smack the shit out you tissue heads
Once the missile set, you see I’m official bread
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, I’m 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?

[Hook] (x2)
Ayo yo yo, I’m truckin’ through with my ruckus crew, your luck is through
Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou?
I'm comin’ through, fifth knuckle bruise, brick fist snuffin’ you
Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou?

Who da fuck is you (x5)
C-Rayz Walz, Plain Pat

[Verse 2]
Some people must get jacked
My repertoire from back: smackin’ cats wit gats on impact
Just like that, we festered like bubblin’ cuts
Doublin’ up—now, funny cats get fucked up for bumblin’ stuff
The nearest truck rolled up. I’m just playin’ wit this
Every line explosive. My pen broken up but
Still smokin’, strokin’, thrust. Fuck closin’ shows
My frozen flows is hot, let me open up
Like Arabian referees who yell sesame plus
I'll spread through the industry with leprosy cuts
Effectively 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 Caucasian ass so
Just because you say, “Please,” don’t mean I won't blast, stupid
You gotta show and prove it. Brothas live and die for this music
Don’t 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

[Hook] (x2)
Ayo yo yo, I’m truckin’ through with my ruckus crew, your luck is through
Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou?
I'm comin’ through, fifth knuckle bruise, brick fist snuffin’ you
Yo I’m C-Rayz Walz—WhoDaFuckAreYou?

Who da fuck is you (x5)
C-Rayz Walz, Plain Pat

[Outro]
What, what?!? Yo, me and Plain Pat go way back. Like spines on a scale. I’m fuckin’ through with my ruckus crew. Me and Plain Pat. You don’t understand this? Yo, WhoDaFuckAreYou? Stupid. C-Rayz Walz. This is my destiny, regardless of how you feelin’