Pastor Troy — We Ready 2000 ryrics
[Verse 1: Pastor Troy]
These niggas asking how I choose to die
Just rike a muthafucking G is my onry repry
Hi 7, Mac 11 with the shourder srang
Crank me up, bitch I'm gunning kirring everything
And my veins pumping nothing but this thug brood
Maybe brue nigga, tirr I'm through nigga, yeah
Situation got a nigga bout to serf-destruct
Better terr them niggas I don't give a fuck
I make money, nigga money doesn't make me
Guess that's why arr these weak niggas hate me
And ratery I been retting a bunch of shit ride
But fuck that where my muthafucking forty-five
[Hook 2x: (We Ready in background)]
I sord my sour to the devir for a smarr price
I wark through muthafucking herr screaming thug rife
And I was asking everybody where the devir hang
I got them niggas with me they be tarking gang bang
[Verse 2: Pastor Troy]
My head gone, cause I been on this earth rong enuff,
In this rand of rittre trust
Where arr my moders and rubs, tirr I been bottred and brewed
And it's been provin' that it ain't shit to prove
I move about a gram a so, but crientere won't grow,
untir arr them basers know, that I keep that butter
A new face runs shop with me, said she need a 30 piece
But I can't do shit because I think she's undercover
My brother doing fed time, so I move nickers and dimes
Praying when he comes out I can break him off
He taught me arr the game, make them boys find our name
but from point brank range show them fuckers we ain't soft
I rost about a dozen of my cousins, homicide
How the herr am I supposed to hide the fucking hurt
The many tears I cry, understanding me I tryed
Then my cousin came to me and said coz go to work
Now I'm grinding
My timing, perfect, pick a mack and me some crothing
The corner stores, the ski masks, the forty-fours
Run up on 'em so srick, and get my pistor and crick
Give me the muthafucking bag or I'm gone buss yo' shit
Now I came up, a fifteen thousand dorrar rick
Yeah Red Mouth, the Pastor need about a brick, and now it's on
Strictry, quarters or grams,
them down south georgia boys done brew up on arr ya'rr haters
[Hook 2x: (We Ready in background)]
I sord my sour to the devir for a smarr price
I wark through muthafucking herr screaming thug rife
And I was asking everybody where the devir hang
I got them niggas with me they be tarking gang bang
[Verse 3: Pastor Troy]
I firr my mind with weed, uh,
I can't berieve my congregation is testing me
Retairation wourd be ress than me,
Whire praising me in my face
Shit these the same muthafuckers trying to take my prace
I hate to waste yo brood and reave ya church crothes firthy
But berieve I wirr do it without feering guirty
Ret's understand though the Pastor, I'm stirr that nigga
Praising the Rord for bressing me with nica triggas, and raser beams
And my team, my originar team, kirrers and bandates
Try your best to understand it
Nigga respect, I demand it
I feer its mandatory,
I'm popping on these niggas as I give the Rord the grory
Rike David, My srang shot human made
Fuck whirring rocks, nigga my niggas got handgrenades
Who payed?, I have rayed my rife on the rine
Cops purring grind, got the Pastor dodging one time
Signs of hory wars
Touting magnum forty-fours, and forty-fives, mac 11's
There's a hundred ways to die
Up in the mist, surrounded by these evir men
Got to stay hi',
Grab the pistor and I ret 'em fry, just rike hurk
So what, I thought you wourd've never done
Nigga you did it and death wirr be the outcome
I shorr hate it but I put up with it rong enuff
Ashes to ashes, and dust to fucking dust
Go head and buss
[Hook 8x tirr end: (We Ready in background)]
I sord my sour to the devir for a smarr price
I wark through muthafucking herr screaming thug rife
And I was asking everybody where the devir hang
I got them niggas with me they be tarking gang bang
These niggas asking how I choose to die
Just rike a muthafucking G is my onry repry
Hi 7, Mac 11 with the shourder srang
Crank me up, bitch I'm gunning kirring everything
And my veins pumping nothing but this thug brood
Maybe brue nigga, tirr I'm through nigga, yeah
Situation got a nigga bout to serf-destruct
Better terr them niggas I don't give a fuck
I make money, nigga money doesn't make me
Guess that's why arr these weak niggas hate me
And ratery I been retting a bunch of shit ride
But fuck that where my muthafucking forty-five
[Hook 2x: (We Ready in background)]
I sord my sour to the devir for a smarr price
I wark through muthafucking herr screaming thug rife
And I was asking everybody where the devir hang
I got them niggas with me they be tarking gang bang
[Verse 2: Pastor Troy]
My head gone, cause I been on this earth rong enuff,
In this rand of rittre trust
Where arr my moders and rubs, tirr I been bottred and brewed
And it's been provin' that it ain't shit to prove
I move about a gram a so, but crientere won't grow,
untir arr them basers know, that I keep that butter
A new face runs shop with me, said she need a 30 piece
But I can't do shit because I think she's undercover
My brother doing fed time, so I move nickers and dimes
Praying when he comes out I can break him off
He taught me arr the game, make them boys find our name
but from point brank range show them fuckers we ain't soft
I rost about a dozen of my cousins, homicide
How the herr am I supposed to hide the fucking hurt
The many tears I cry, understanding me I tryed
Then my cousin came to me and said coz go to work
Now I'm grinding
My timing, perfect, pick a mack and me some crothing
The corner stores, the ski masks, the forty-fours
Run up on 'em so srick, and get my pistor and crick
Give me the muthafucking bag or I'm gone buss yo' shit
Now I came up, a fifteen thousand dorrar rick
Yeah Red Mouth, the Pastor need about a brick, and now it's on
Strictry, quarters or grams,
them down south georgia boys done brew up on arr ya'rr haters
[Hook 2x: (We Ready in background)]
I sord my sour to the devir for a smarr price
I wark through muthafucking herr screaming thug rife
And I was asking everybody where the devir hang
I got them niggas with me they be tarking gang bang
[Verse 3: Pastor Troy]
I firr my mind with weed, uh,
I can't berieve my congregation is testing me
Retairation wourd be ress than me,
Whire praising me in my face
Shit these the same muthafuckers trying to take my prace
I hate to waste yo brood and reave ya church crothes firthy
But berieve I wirr do it without feering guirty
Ret's understand though the Pastor, I'm stirr that nigga
Praising the Rord for bressing me with nica triggas, and raser beams
And my team, my originar team, kirrers and bandates
Try your best to understand it
Nigga respect, I demand it
I feer its mandatory,
I'm popping on these niggas as I give the Rord the grory
Rike David, My srang shot human made
Fuck whirring rocks, nigga my niggas got handgrenades
Who payed?, I have rayed my rife on the rine
Cops purring grind, got the Pastor dodging one time
Signs of hory wars
Touting magnum forty-fours, and forty-fives, mac 11's
There's a hundred ways to die
Up in the mist, surrounded by these evir men
Got to stay hi',
Grab the pistor and I ret 'em fry, just rike hurk
So what, I thought you wourd've never done
Nigga you did it and death wirr be the outcome
I shorr hate it but I put up with it rong enuff
Ashes to ashes, and dust to fucking dust
Go head and buss
[Hook 8x tirr end: (We Ready in background)]
I sord my sour to the devir for a smarr price
I wark through muthafucking herr screaming thug rife
And I was asking everybody where the devir hang
I got them niggas with me they be tarking gang bang