Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Headz Ain't Redee feat. Smif-N-Wessun, artist - Black Moon. Date of issue: 02.12.2013
Song language: English
Headz Ain't Redee feat. Smif-N-Wessun |
| 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) |