Letra de We Ready
Letra powered by LyricFind
[Intro:]
Yea,
Dem fi know,
Yea,
Dem fi know,
Yo Craig... Weh Yuh deh pon?
Let's do this, let's get it,
For real,
Yeah! Da River, Warminister... I got ya,
Ha ha,
Kingston, Jamaica... let's do this,
Uh!
Fresh out da building, fresh off da corner,
Fresh in da streets, you can crown me if you wanna,
Uh!
I'm da king homie,
40 karats on da charm, I bling homie,
Where you been homie?
In da streets all day tryin to get that gwap,
To da streets I pray trying to duck them shots,
(I'm maintaining dawg, Cry Nation all day... Let's do this, uh.)
Me and my crew hungry,
Ain't nothing in this world like new money,
So where da brinks at?
Ready to sink that,
(Real talk homie... let's do this, uh.)
It's like nothing to kill a man,
Niggaz get murdered for that white shit, ten kilograms,
I cry tears at nights and I'm still a man,
Thousand pounds guerilla man,
Yea, uh!
Niggaz lackin vision, niggaz lackin trust,
Niggaz lackin hope, heart filled with lust,
What's love? I don't know nigga! Cry Nation, that's us,
Yea,
I put my heart on da line so my niggaz could ride,
I never thought that niggaz could die,
G4 in da sky,
Tell da angels that niggaz could fly,
Getting off this corner, gotta say goodbye,
And I'm,
(Yea! Warminister, let's do this.)
I'm back in da building, ready to die,
26 on that whip, ready to ride,
Anger in my heart, blood in my eyes,
Pussy niggaz get pushed to da side,
Let dem die,
Yea!
I got my stunnas on,
Motherfuckas got my Hummer chromed,
Lifestyle got da sickest stones,
I got a bitch at home,
I call her ms patron,
High as a motherfucka, can't leave that bitch alone,
I got paper to burn cause I'm a live nigga,
Fuck with Kay then you gon die nigga,
Let da 4, 5 hit ya,
Throwin dirt on my picture cause I don't ride with ya,
Uh!
Look at them rocs that I got,
There's rats on da block,
Fake crews get clapped,
Fake crews get back,
Real G's gon ball,
On da way to da top, real G's never fall,
Got chips for y'all,
Kay be on it,
Y'all don't want it with da young black hornet,
On his way to stardom,
Makin moves in Queens, stackin chips in Harlem,
My chain so blue and my wrist orange,
And we still ballin,
Ho's still callin,
Hennessey in da cup, yellow piss pourin,
Rest in peace Terry, pour some criss for him,
I miss you nigga and this shit's boring,
I got you in my heart homie,
Give ya family anything they want homie,
You my nigga from da start homie,
And I got ya!
[Outro:]
Yea, uh!
Da River, Warminister, Kingston Jamaica,
Yeah! That's how we do it,
Fo real... Queens, New York!
Yea, got this... we here,
Cry Nation, yea!
Whassup Zala, Craig... It's all good, I'm here,
Cry Nation!
Ikay! That's my name niggaz,
Get used to it,
Ha ha ha.
Let's do this, let's get it,
For real,
Yeah! Da River, Warminister... I got ya,
Ha ha,
Kingston, Jamaica... let's do this,
Uh!
Fresh out da building, fresh off da corner,
Fresh in da streets, you can crown me if you wanna,
Uh!
I'm da king homie,
40 karats on da charm, I bling homie,
Where you been homie?
In da streets all day tryin to get that gwap,
To da streets I pray trying to duck them shots,
(I'm maintaining dawg, Cry Nation all day... Let's do this, uh.)
Me and my crew hungry,
Ain't nothing in this world like new money,
So where da brinks at?
Ready to sink that,
(Real talk homie... let's do this, uh.)
It's like nothing to kill a man,
Niggaz get murdered for that white shit, ten kilograms,
I cry tears at nights and I'm still a man,
Thousand pounds guerilla man,
Yea, uh!
Niggaz lackin vision, niggaz lackin trust,
Niggaz lackin hope, heart filled with lust,
What's love? I don't know nigga! Cry Nation, that's us,
Yea,
I put my heart on da line so my niggaz could ride,
I never thought that niggaz could die,
G4 in da sky,
Tell da angels that niggaz could fly,
Getting off this corner, gotta say goodbye,
And I'm,
(Yea! Warminister, let's do this.)
I'm back in da building, ready to die,
26 on that whip, ready to ride,
Anger in my heart, blood in my eyes,
Pussy niggaz get pushed to da side,
Let dem die,
Yea!
I got my stunnas on,
Motherfuckas got my Hummer chromed,
Lifestyle got da sickest stones,
I got a bitch at home,
I call her ms patron,
High as a motherfucka, can't leave that bitch alone,
I got paper to burn cause I'm a live nigga,
Fuck with Kay then you gon die nigga,
Let da 4, 5 hit ya,
Throwin dirt on my picture cause I don't ride with ya,
Uh!
Look at them rocs that I got,
There's rats on da block,
Fake crews get clapped,
Fake crews get back,
Real G's gon ball,
On da way to da top, real G's never fall,
Got chips for y'all,
Kay be on it,
Y'all don't want it with da young black hornet,
On his way to stardom,
Makin moves in Queens, stackin chips in Harlem,
My chain so blue and my wrist orange,
And we still ballin,
Ho's still callin,
Hennessey in da cup, yellow piss pourin,
Rest in peace Terry, pour some criss for him,
I miss you nigga and this shit's boring,
I got you in my heart homie,
Give ya family anything they want homie,
You my nigga from da start homie,
And I got ya!
[Outro:]
Yea, uh!
Da River, Warminister, Kingston Jamaica,
Yeah! That's how we do it,
Fo real... Queens, New York!
Yea, got this... we here,
Cry Nation, yea!
Whassup Zala, Craig... It's all good, I'm here,
Cry Nation!
Ikay! That's my name niggaz,
Get used to it,
Ha ha ha.
Letra powered by LyricFind
