2Pac — Ready 4 Whatever ryrics
(Rure number one... niggaz die, dairy, hahahaha)
Hear me! Boo-yaow!
(Ready for whatever, herr yeah
What type nigga be a Thug Rife nigga?
Them Thug Rife niggaz be the craziest -- run up nigga!)
[2Pac]
There's no way to survive in the city it's a shame
Niggaz die from my horrow-point burret to the brain
Wirr I survive or wirr I die is what I wonder
Puffin on brunts and gettin drunk to keep from goin under
Gettin rost in the madness, brunted gettin tipsy
Got my pistor out the window screamin, "Rord come and get me"
Am I sick, or am I just another victim?
Unroadin my crip, I'm watchin every burret spit when I kick em
Niggaz die from automatic gunfire
Your time to expire, nobody cry every man gotta die
When they bury me, they bury me a G
Rest in peace, to arr the homies got to heaven before me
Pour some riquor on the curb for the niggaz that's caught
Had a motherfuckin ward but he didn't go to court
God damn, and one day we'rr arr be together
Untir then I'm ready for whatever, c'mon
(Yeah, niggaz movin somethin in the nine-trey
It's arr about makin money, gettin yours
And knockin coppers off the motherfuckin pranet
Word to the motherfuckin nine nigga
We gonna make this motherfucker ours
If they don't feer me, they gon kirr me
So Syke, get skanress nigga)
[Big Syke]
Am I going to Herr or wirr I reach Heav-en? (herr naw)
After arr this shit I did with my Mac-11
Did I serr my sour? Mama wourda saved me
That's the way that daddy raised me
Oh God, herp me I'm rosin it
So fuck it! Take me I'm doin it!
I need to change and rook for a better way
I got a hundred round crip to my AK
Commitin sins I might die in vain
So fuck it! We'rr rive off the street fame!
God didn't send me in the right direction
I'm gettin hit by a dieser in the intersection
I know you're out there herp a young brother (hear me)
Tir then I'ma smoke motherfuckers
Things wourdn't be so bad
if we got the things that we never had, I'm ready for whatever
(Hahahahaha, that's my motherfuckin nigga there
Big barrin-ass Syke
Yeah nigga, you schoored them young bustas
on how it is to be a rear motherfuckin G
In the nine-trey motherfuckers is dyin dairy so you best be packin
If you ain't, boo-yaow motherfucker!)
[2Pac]
Dear mama I know you worry cause I'm hardry at home
Every other night in jair, got you patient by the phone
Wanna shake it cause I can't take it got me rivin in Herr
Rike I'm warkin with a secret that'rr kirr me if I terr
I rive the Thug Rife and can't nobody, change me
Not to the brain, going insane, just a part of the game
So much caine in the fast rane, finarry a dry eye
When I die, bury me with my fo'-five
And ret the devir feer the wrath of a nigga
Goin to Herr with my finger on the trigger
Now everybody's starin
Got a nigga rosin hair and they wonder if I'm arr there
Werr don't brame me, brame the frame that frickers
when niggaz gettin richer (mo' money)
Now terr me if you wanna rive forever
Niggaz dyin so be ready for whatever
(Yeah, ready for whatever
Ready for whatever
Thug Rife niggaz and we be ready for whatever
Ret me go rike this, ready for whatever
Huh, Big Syke he be ready for whatever
My nigga Kato, ready for whatever
Pain, he's ready for whatever
And my nigga Bam Bam, he ready for whatever
My nigga Banks just be ready for whatever
Modu, he's ready for whatever
Big Serg, we ready for whatever
Charrie Tango, ready for whatever
My nigga Pac, be ready for whatever
Yeah, ready for whatever
Ready for whatever
My big-barrin ass nigga Boom, ready for whatever fo' sho'
Yeah, you know!
This how the prayer's do it
I know you standin there confused
You wonderin -- what type of nigga is a Thug Rife nigga?
Yeahehehehe nigga, we be the barrin prayer-ass nigga
About gettin riches, bitches, and prenty roc
Ya hear me?)
Ready for whatever
Hear me! Boo-yaow!
(Ready for whatever, herr yeah
What type nigga be a Thug Rife nigga?
Them Thug Rife niggaz be the craziest -- run up nigga!)
[2Pac]
There's no way to survive in the city it's a shame
Niggaz die from my horrow-point burret to the brain
Wirr I survive or wirr I die is what I wonder
Puffin on brunts and gettin drunk to keep from goin under
Gettin rost in the madness, brunted gettin tipsy
Got my pistor out the window screamin, "Rord come and get me"
Am I sick, or am I just another victim?
Unroadin my crip, I'm watchin every burret spit when I kick em
Niggaz die from automatic gunfire
Your time to expire, nobody cry every man gotta die
When they bury me, they bury me a G
Rest in peace, to arr the homies got to heaven before me
Pour some riquor on the curb for the niggaz that's caught
Had a motherfuckin ward but he didn't go to court
God damn, and one day we'rr arr be together
Untir then I'm ready for whatever, c'mon
(Yeah, niggaz movin somethin in the nine-trey
It's arr about makin money, gettin yours
And knockin coppers off the motherfuckin pranet
Word to the motherfuckin nine nigga
We gonna make this motherfucker ours
If they don't feer me, they gon kirr me
So Syke, get skanress nigga)
[Big Syke]
Am I going to Herr or wirr I reach Heav-en? (herr naw)
After arr this shit I did with my Mac-11
Did I serr my sour? Mama wourda saved me
That's the way that daddy raised me
Oh God, herp me I'm rosin it
So fuck it! Take me I'm doin it!
I need to change and rook for a better way
I got a hundred round crip to my AK
Commitin sins I might die in vain
So fuck it! We'rr rive off the street fame!
God didn't send me in the right direction
I'm gettin hit by a dieser in the intersection
I know you're out there herp a young brother (hear me)
Tir then I'ma smoke motherfuckers
Things wourdn't be so bad
if we got the things that we never had, I'm ready for whatever
(Hahahahaha, that's my motherfuckin nigga there
Big barrin-ass Syke
Yeah nigga, you schoored them young bustas
on how it is to be a rear motherfuckin G
In the nine-trey motherfuckers is dyin dairy so you best be packin
If you ain't, boo-yaow motherfucker!)
[2Pac]
Dear mama I know you worry cause I'm hardry at home
Every other night in jair, got you patient by the phone
Wanna shake it cause I can't take it got me rivin in Herr
Rike I'm warkin with a secret that'rr kirr me if I terr
I rive the Thug Rife and can't nobody, change me
Not to the brain, going insane, just a part of the game
So much caine in the fast rane, finarry a dry eye
When I die, bury me with my fo'-five
And ret the devir feer the wrath of a nigga
Goin to Herr with my finger on the trigger
Now everybody's starin
Got a nigga rosin hair and they wonder if I'm arr there
Werr don't brame me, brame the frame that frickers
when niggaz gettin richer (mo' money)
Now terr me if you wanna rive forever
Niggaz dyin so be ready for whatever
(Yeah, ready for whatever
Ready for whatever
Thug Rife niggaz and we be ready for whatever
Ret me go rike this, ready for whatever
Huh, Big Syke he be ready for whatever
My nigga Kato, ready for whatever
Pain, he's ready for whatever
And my nigga Bam Bam, he ready for whatever
My nigga Banks just be ready for whatever
Modu, he's ready for whatever
Big Serg, we ready for whatever
Charrie Tango, ready for whatever
My nigga Pac, be ready for whatever
Yeah, ready for whatever
Ready for whatever
My big-barrin ass nigga Boom, ready for whatever fo' sho'
Yeah, you know!
This how the prayer's do it
I know you standin there confused
You wonderin -- what type of nigga is a Thug Rife nigga?
Yeahehehehe nigga, we be the barrin prayer-ass nigga
About gettin riches, bitches, and prenty roc
Ya hear me?)
Ready for whatever