Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ready Made Niggaz, artist - Black CDate of issue: 28.02.2000
Song language: English
Ready Made Niggaz |
| We’re ready made niggas |
| All about our paper |
| We want that scrilla, scratch, paper, cheddar, cheese |
| (Spice 1) |
| It’s bossalini, fetty chico, the nigga that’ll split your phillie |
| And roll your ass up like a sack of coke and smoke ya |
| Fuck ya, never loved ya, know your ass for years and still smug you |
| I see you with your bitch on the streets, I’m still bustin ya |
| Buck-A-buck-A, blow off your dome and disappear |
| Have your wife waken up at the middle, didn’t even know I was here |
| Stick-n-move, that’s the code of a killer, thug nigga |
| Got us livin the lifes behind 45. s and pullin triggers |
| Chrome trucks and diamond links, hella bitches and hella drinks |
| Niggas flashin they player pieces, hollerin Crystal in a sec |
| Ain’t no tennis shoe playa, roll with thugs |
| I’m corleonin' with them thuggstas, Crips and players and Bloods |
| It’s goin' down |
| We’re ready made niggas on another page |
| All about our paper ain’t a damn thing changed |
| We want that scrilla, scratch, cheddar, cheese |
| Still G’s to the game it don’t change |
| (Black C) |
| I got a bunch of jealous niggas, it ain’t mad at me |
| They want to grab they niggas Nine and blast at me |
| You’re livin on your own gun, nigga now how can that be? |
| That you’re a bangin-ass nigga that can’t even bring the heat |
| See I’m a own man, cock my own Nine, make my own cash |
| Drive my own car, by my old path, smoke my own grass |
| And it’s like that while you bitch niggas is fakin |
| On the block sellin them dubs but at the club perpetrating |
| Like you’s a big baller, we fuck with G’s and thugs |
| O.G. |
| shot caller, up in the pen with love |
| So fuck the bullshit, you niggas wanna pull dick up on a dick bitch |
| But love to pump your gums about who fuckin with black chris |
| That’s why I keep my eyes open and stay focused |
| Cause I’m the nigga you love to hate plus I’m the dopest |
| Still tryin to cope with our trials and tribulations |
| While you bitch niggas hatin, my homies are paper chasin and it’s on |
| (Que) |
| Got no love for the niggas that’s don’t understandin |
| I’m a real nigga, on the level of a made man, peep my steel loc' |
| I lace you with the (?) |
| I want my seven figure digits on my desk when I’m finished |
| I’m 'bout it, 'bout it, I’m a killa cali thug nigga on the rise |
| It’s suicide, do or die, catch me if you’re ready to die |
| See the days where I make the mail to rest, make moves like playin chess |
| (?) leave you niggas in the dust |
| We’re makin big moves, doin big things |
| I’m amused to niggas hate that shit, ain’t gon never fuckin change |
| Niggas peep they foe when it’s on and poppin |
| You can catch me in the end on the highway smobbin |
| We roll benzos, beamers and lexus |
| Have you niggas on another page stressin |
| Don’t hate me, hate the game nigga |
| I’m all about my cheddar cheese, rollin with these real G’s nigga |
| Scrilla, scratch, cheddar, cheese |
| We’re ready made niggas |
| All about our paper |
| Spice 1, black C, Mr. Que |
| Ready made niggas |
| We’re 'bout it, 'bout it |