Tommy Tee, Hazadous, I.G. Off - Ready For Me lyrics

[Tommy Tee, Hazadous, I.G. Off - Ready For Me lyrics]

Aiiyo G, I don't think they ready yo rhymes
They say every man is put here for a purpose
Tommy Tee that is what's yours?
Eyes closed matter of fact, here's mine

Sex and fame, lusting for destiny
IG off and Haz dropped
On the world unexpectedly
The highest is the illest
Hope you ready for me
I say the highest is the illest
Hope you ready for me
Sex and faith, stay lusting for destiny
IG off and Haz dropped
On the world unexpectedly
The highest is the illest
Hope you ready for me
I say the highest is the illest
Hope you ready for me

July '71, premature ejaculation


Intercourse with no protection
The immaculate conception
Raised in the far rock section
One hit too many
Mom said "mother eff 'em" scooped me
In her arms and left 'em
We ran away, then she moved back in with fam
Gramps used to sneak in and give me
Sips of beer from his can sit me on his lap
Say I was part of a bigger plan
Slide tables
Watch me perform with a brush in my hand
My early, teacher said I was a bright
Young man
An ill rap cat, never really one for the pill
Shorties I drilled
The street taught me hustling skill
Birds love crooks, thugs die young
Plus get their shit took
Babies having babies, lost one's outlook
My moms tried to keep my
Head in the good book i left the hood shook
Splashed this cat that was
Supposed to be buck
We had the gods screaming "Shorty G Off"
The name stuck like quick on back staircases
Cases of forties on the bench
But when I pour me while
They kick war stories
Plastic cups of cokie mixed with ciscio
Drunk as hell seing life
Through a project window
Jam Tec's and project raps
Fast women whips and cash
Leak heads laced with hash
Old timers tried to lick the weight of
The white horse off they mustache
For one they tried to pull off
All my niggas that past
Marry death in a red suit
If you're handle ain't fast
A lot of cats close they eyes
When they squeeze off and blast
In the odds you miss we shoot, you're stuck
Do the math, do the math
Y'all rap cats, do the math

I broke the best off
I've pissed the rest off
Four clip of cop killas knock the vest off
Rip your chest off i'ma die in the cross
I was married to crack money
But I got a divorce
My styles break a nigga up like brute force
My babys moms got me in
Court for child support
We play for keeps of blood sport
So i pack a sawed off and
Keep my eyes for task force
Come to my block, you taking the jewels off
Otherwise, she gon' light you
Up like the fourth
Can't believe everything you read
In The Source icicles dripping off my wrist
Like I'm Jack Frost
My moms had an eight track
She stays playing Diana Ross
Now when I buy something I don't
Even ask how much it cost
They do it to theyself
So I can't feel remorse came here to battle
You going home with a loss
Burned ass niggas getting housed
Like red cross
Jumping out a chromed out Porsche
Jungle Smirnoff smell flesh burning in my
Cypher like holocaust
Fuck going to jail, I'd rather be dead
I'd be better off

"Somebody, anybody, and everybody, scream!"

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