| For all my Down South, West Coast, East Coast club
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| Down South, West Coast, East Coast club
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| Down South, West Coast, East Coast club
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| Down South, West Coast, East Coast club
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| Down South, West Coast, East Coast club
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| Baby, betta cut you a rug
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| For my dimes, doves, hustlers, thugs
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| Posted outside of the lines of the clubs
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| Clubs, clubs, affectin all of y’all
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| Fights at night, right clutchin my jaws
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| Laws get broken, hoppin on the first thing smokin
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| Rhymes in the marinade soakin
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| Kin folks all at the bar, yo put the bottles on ice
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| And let 'em who you are, you a star
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| Tash got cash, Supernat' rollin up stacks
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| Phil-a react on a will.i.am track
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| Back to the basics, 501s with the Asics
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| Rap City rhymes from +The Basement+
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| Cement blocks, still on my +Lox+
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| +Money, Power, Respect+, still on my licks
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| I get the whole crowd wet
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| Betcha bottom dollar, we top dollar, Rotweiller
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| Hip-hop scholars, disc jocks holler
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| Ah naw (y'all ain’t ready for this)
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| Hell naw (y'all ain’t ready for this)
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| Cause y’all ain’t ready, you steady try to
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| («Pick it up, pick it up!») but it’s just too heavy for ya
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| Ah naw (y'all ain’t ready for this)
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| Hell naw (y'all ain’t ready for this)
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| Y’all ain’t ready, you steady try to
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| («Pick it up, pick it up!») but it’s just too heavy for ya
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| And I’m a shark in the water searchin for that place
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| Swing around baby girl, swing that ass re-way
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| Me and Ick lit the wick to the dynamite stick
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| It goes…"SSSSSSSSS, ss-ss-ss, phoo".
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| Kamikaze, paparazzis dodge me
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| Walkin through the club, I look drugged up like Ozzy
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| I leave 'em in the dust then it’s, ashes to ashes
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| Y’all sport Jordans? |
| Jordan sports Tashes
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| Alas is, me and Supernat is runnin' through 'em
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| We don’t, we just sue 'em
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| CD to the wax, the wax is to the MiniDisc
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| We walk in Benz dealerships like «Yeah, gimme this!»
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| And roll off that drop top off the lot
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| I’m beatin down your block, what the y’all got? |
| (woop! woop!)
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| Catastrophe and the Black Eyed Peas
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| I’m comin through straight FADIN on you wack emcees, it’s like…
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| Stars, cars, wars, clothes
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| Tearin down stages, late night shows
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| Chips, whips, tips, kicks
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| Posted in the club, flicks, chicks
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| Stars, cars, wars, clothes
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| Tearin down stages, late night shows
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| Chips, whips, tips, kicks
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| Posted in the club, flicks, chicks, c’mon
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| The club is packed, it’s filled with smoke
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| My fits are fresh, yo I’m 'bout to make my approach
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| It didn’t hit the stroke of twelve, I’m under the spell
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| 'Bout to make my move to the corner, twist up an L
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| The DJs' playin' my shit, start rollin it fast
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| So I can get to the bar and start toastin with Tash
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| Play this joint in the club, get the party on smash
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| My interest is +Grand+, yo and I’m a +Master+ like Caz
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| Predators in the club, lookin straight for the stab
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| Ready to get freaky-deaky, go back to the lab
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| I love that it’s club night, I’m gettin my rub right
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| Don’t you hate when cats spoil it by havin a club fight?
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| But that’s alright, one cat don’t stop no show
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| Bouncers, do your job, Phil, pass that droll
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| We gonna, do it to death, then do it some mo'
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| Look at the way the shortys movin out there on the flo', whoa |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song I'm Ready (Y'all Ain't Ready for This) , by - will.i.am. Song from the album Must B 21 (Soundtrack to Get Things Started), in the genre Электроника