Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Headz Ain't Redee, artist - Black Moon. Album song Headz Ain't Redee, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Nervous
Song language: English
Headz Ain't Redee |
Headz Ain’t Ready for this Clik we got |
Headz Ain’t Ready man I swear they not |
Nowadays I had it up to here, from my chest to my head |
When the buddha bless bless my head then the eyes are red |
Coming for ya, 3−2-1 nice to know ya |
You wanted to pop junk |
So now it’s like a little Vigor |
I outta floor ya |
Heads ain’t ready got the original guns and machetes |
I pen that ass to the grass like I was Teddy |
Cause brothers ain’t ready for the fros and the dreads |
Grab the Glock and hit ya from ya toes to ya head |
There’s an X amount of yar-we, yo pass the gar-weed |
Pass it over here so I can get Irie-why we |
Smoke so much brothers be asking |
Why the Originoo Gunn Clappaz keep on clapping |
Heads ain’t ready for what my clique got in store |
Cause what we got in store keeps us prepared for the war |
Shows get blown, hoes get thrown out the room |
Plus napkins for nitwits that ride these from now 'til noon |
Now assume — position, punks pissing they pants |
Cause lyrical skills is making you feel. |
Still if-in-case you didn’t know how we be livin |
It’s in, my nature to keep Robin like Givens |
For real doe, bring your steel bro' |
Kill or be killed jerk — you don’t know |
So that leaves ya screwed like a dildo |
I still blow, punks I crush into dust |
Plus we got ya bucks (Who the warriors?) |
Rock and Ruck, and what? |
What’s that aroma in the air? |
Trees |
So what that means son? |
Son that mean it’s huntin season |
Time to stack papes do you got what it takes |
Can you react when your life’s at stake? |
I rock the stripes of an M-P, pon my timb tree |
And keep the Taurus for my enemies |
Whenever he comes in the mist of this Boot Camp Clik |
It gets realer so watch Steele serve justice |
Thirty-two degrees freeze until |
These MC’s decide to relieve you of grievin |
On my way from out of state, I hit my block F-A-P |
Wit my man Ruck and my man Rock S-T |
Jus left my man brown nose |
Now we got a sack of the black for the shows |
Clothes, ain’t really nothing to me |
But I stay with my Timberland tree, and my |
Rock, the party, keep my hair notty |
Did you notice me flowing with potency |
Buckshot b-d-b-d and the Evil Dee, we rock fluently |
Mr. McGee don’t get me angry (why?) |
You wouldn’t like it when I’m angry |
Ill thoughts to the dome start to change me |
Rearrange the, way I be kicking, my flavor |
Even my neighbours |
Notice a change in the Ruckus behaviour |
Now you roaches don’t even come close or approach this |
What I be smoking leave your monkey ass choking |
Straight from yardie like the one Robert Marley |
You hardly ever saw me witout a bag of that bomb weed |
I wake up in the morning and chocolate’s what starts it |
Reaching in my pocket for the roach to spark it |
I’m steppin in hotter this year |
Wit my bredern dry-tear, my cousin wit no fear |
So who — wanna come tess Top Dawg |
They dig you out the ditch and then they take you to the morgue |
Here’s Mr. Meaner, the crook with the mouth full |
Known for being live and rocking those flavor Timbos |
Half pass Lincoln, clothes dead and stinking |
Country boy got me just zoning and thinking |
Time to start stacking on you crab ass snakes |
Gotta move right, cause my rep’s at stake |
Call up my dogs that’s quick to bust |
P.N.C. |
take it back to the dust |
Now I got four eyes to watch my back |
Plus my own two make it a full six-pack |
Now we bring the ruckus to wannabe nuccas |
Bodying suckas like I change up my chuckas |
Don’t you know the W-a-r (war) |
Is o-n (on) open to them heads scoping |
Hoping they can get a bite, and write what I write |
But they don’t know the night |
Keeps me and my Clik air tight (right) |
All you biters wanna chunk the script |
But your quick to take a flick |
By my side as you take my hand, giving the fake smile |
But I peeped you for awhile |
Ease off selector when the B.D. |
pulled your file |
Can I pull your card again, the Buck’s guardian |
Is the Arm-a-Leg-Leg-Arm-a-Head |
So begin to drop the bombs (Heltah Skeltah) |
Booyah! |
You ask for it, who want beef well here’s war |
For this I packs twin automatic 4−4's |
Kids this ain’t before don’t even speak about my fleet |
Many pop junk but front when them see me |
Them not ready |
Headz Ain’t Ready for this Clik we got (them not ready) |
Headz Ain’t Ready man I swear they not (nah) |
Heady Ain’t Ready for the Clik we got (we really ready) |
Headz Ain’t Ready man I swear they not (nah) |
Headz Ain’t Ready. |
for the Click we got |
(They ain’t nowhere near ready) |