| Softly as if I played piano in the dark
|
| Found a way to channel my anger now to embark
|
| The world’s a stage and everybody’s got to play their part
|
| God… with the signal clear as day
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| Put my Glock, put my Glock away I got a stronger weapon
|
| That never runs out of ammunition so I’m ready for war, okay
|
| Put my Glock away I got a stronger weapon
|
| That never runs out of ammunition so I’m ready for war, okay
|
| Put my Glock away I got a stronger weapon
|
| That never runs out of ammunition so I’m ready for war, okay
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| War ready, your boys lost already
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| War ready, your boys lost already
|
| My bitch look like Mona Lisa
|
| Hammers busting like a soda in the freezer
|
| Think of heading to Ibiza
|
| Need a breather from the tripping
|
| Either that or my brains to the ceiling
|
| Bite the bullet, tryna fight the feeling
|
| Fuck around and pull it, push it to the limit
|
| Ain’t a thang to a G
|
| Life give you lemons, nigga hang from a tree
|
| Cold game all came in a dream
|
| Woke up feeling like the walls caved in
|
| Fought to the death, never gave in
|
| Write that on the grave that I get laid in
|
| Heaven, Hell, free or jail, same shit
|
| County jail bus, slave ship, same shit
|
| A wise man once said that a black man better off dead
|
| So I’m, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| War ready, your boys lost already
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| Born ready, war-ready
|
| War ready, your boys lost already
|
| Learned the power of words when we was younger
|
| Saying fuck the sign on his curb can make him hunt you
|
| Turned the African into a nigga then they hung him
|
| Said it earlier in the verse, sometimes I wonder
|
| Who the activist and who the Devil’s advocate
|
| Or do it matter? |
| Shit
|
| They only fucking with the rapper if the rapper rich
|
| Or got a platinum hit
|
| A chain or two
|
| Seem the music interchangeable
|
| Raging bull, what you headed for?
|
| Heaven doors, or hell below
|
| I write directions for the road to let you know
|
| Edgar Allen Poe
|
| Tried to warn 'em of demise and all he seen was crows
|
| Feel for 'em, words, we kill for 'em
|
| Leave the bitchin' to the birds, we still war’n
|
| Born ready, you boys lost already
|
| All in 'til the lord get me
|
| Put my Glock away I got a stronger weapon
|
| That never runs out of ammunition so I’m ready for war, okay |