Rick Ross - War Ready Feat. Young Jeezy & Tracy T

 

Lyrics to War Ready Feat. Young Jeezy & Tracy T by Rick Ross

  [Pre-Intro: Skit] Sentence should now-now be pronounced I'll ask that you stand for sentence, please. Mr. *** it is the sentence of the court that your custody be committed to the department of corrections for confinement of the *** state prisons without possibility of parole for the remainder of your life. You may be seated [Intro: Rick Ross] War ready You got shooters, I’ve got shooters We’ve got money Let’s do what them other n-ggas can’t do Mastermind, uhh, uhh N-gga got a thousand guns, n-gga (Dade County) If money is power, n-gga, then I’ve got millions of power, n-gga Hahaha! Miami shit F-ck with me n-gga, huh? [Verse 1: Rick Ross] 17 I was chargin' n-ggas 17 Ridin' clean, youngest n-gga in the Medellín Bomber green, in that thang, in the middle lane Did some thangs for my n-ggas which I can't explain Versace slippers, 20 chains, bitch I'm Dana Dane Put a patch over your eye, f-ck with my petty change F-ck what you heard, for that bird I'm a dirty n-gga Laid to rest by the one you thought was workin' with yah War ready, the game just wanna take my life War ready, pussy boy we all could die tonight War ready, fast cash above the law War ready, gas mask when them choppers talk [Hook: Tracy T] Killas on front line when you're war ready Chopper shoot a thousand rounds when you're war ready Just another mama cryin' when you're war ready Just another homicide cause we war ready Killas on the front line when you're war ready Chopper shoot a thousand rounds when you're war ready Just another mama cryin' cause we're war ready Just another homicide when you're war ready War, war, war [Interlude: Young Jeezy] A coward dies a thousand deaths, a real n-gga dies but one 21 gun salute out of the top of your drop top coupe I know a lot of n-ggas gon' hate to see this Yeah I wish Shake could see this I'll never fall for what I stand for This here for Nando We could live today, blood, and die tonight, cuz [Verse 2: Young Jeezy] Box Chevy hit the block, run the whole 50 shots You just poppin' 'til you know you can't pop 'em no more We done came through the block in so many colored drops And these mothaf-ckas think you can't drop 'em no more All right, a n-gga put some change on your head Damn right, f-ck around, clear my safe out I got a few digi scales and a couple Denzels And you mothaf-ckin' right, this a safe house Give me the K and a shovel, I'll bury that n-gga Be his pallbearer, so I can carry that n-gga What you gonna hit him with, the Glock or the chop? Look I wouldn't give a f-ck if they were sharin' that n-gga You mothaf-ckas out here always talkin' 'bout what another mothaf-cka said Yeah, I got that FNH with that mothaf-ckin' Fendi holster I ain't out here to mothaf-ckin' play Why these f-ck n-ggas always cryin' 'bout somethin'? Either you're livin' like a ho or you're dyin' 'bout somethin' Try to let that Rollie breathe but it's hidin' in my sleeve Like that motherf-cker timid or shy about somethin' Tomorrow ain't promised, n-gga roll up that weed Gotta stay strapped to live the life I lead Start your own alphabet with all them G's Open up a hundred doors with all them ki's Yeah we live for them coupes but we dyin' by the gun Missed his court date, now my n-gga on the run Big shit poppin' in his pocket like a lighter Shit bag leave a grown n-gga in a diaper Hangin' out the Rolls, on your mark, get set Let it go, yeah hold that bitch steady When adrenaline get to rushin' and them drums get to bussin' Yeah I hope you pussy n-ggas war ready [Hook] [Verse 3: Rick Ross] Follow in my footstep, I was born to die a soldier N-gga couldn't walk a mile, found him naked in his Rover Shout out to the Vice Lords, shout out to my Blood n-gga Shout out to them GD's, where that Crip love, n-gga? Shout out to them dopeboys, owe it to the plug, n-gga I could die a thousand times, will never die a f-ck n-gga Shoutout to my city, too, my clip hold a 62 Ridin' down on 63, rest in peace to [?] Heroin and quinine Cut that bitch a thousand times Phone call said he need a brick I text him back, "Come stand in line" You went out of town so I had to wack your bitch Never came back, pussy boy, go die a bitch [Hook] [Outro] War ready If you ain't ready to die about it Don't even mention it to a n-gga like me, baby I went from nothing, n-gga, to $60 million, n-gga Walking around in my motherf-ckin' Belaire Rosé [?] Evander Holyfield's estate, n-gga $25 million, n-gga $6 million in marble, $2 million in drapes Another 5 in chandeliers 230 acres, n-gga That's just one of the many properties, n-gga War ready And I'm down to die 'bout that We gon' ride 'bout that So you know we ready to slide 'bout that Cut that check, n-gga Whatcha money like, huh? It's hard to go to war with $70 million, n-gga Read the obituary, n-gga Print that motherf-cker in [Italian?], n-gga What's a hassa? What's a hassa? That's you, haha I'm not gonna kill you, though, haha I'm not gonna kill you, though, haha Hey Black, kill this motherf-cker