(I think I'm ready, man
|
I'm ready to rap)
|
Nigga, you just talkin shit, man
|
I don't wanna hear that shit
|
(Hey, I'm ready, man)
|
Man, you been sayin that shit
|
(I'm ready to put it down)
|
Yeah, yeah...
|
(Show you that I'm down)
|
Ha-ha, alright, alright
|
We'll see, man
|
This ain't no game, though
|
|
[VERSE 1]
|
Here, smoke some of this weed, so you can feel fine
|
And you just might need a drink, you gotta think of a rhyme
|
We can make the beat slow, so you can speed up the flow
|
With some cool pimp shit about some weed or some hoes
|
Or supposed you do a song that you can jam with foreign dancers
|
Or some growin-up-hard shit with slim to none chances
|
Maybe a familiar tune people already heard
|
Let's call Morris, see how much he want for a bird
|
Or fuck it, fuck it, let's strictly go pop
|
Do anything for the women while mis-representin your block
|
You can be famous in public with the right music and subject
|
You can make millions, nigga, if you just make that million love it
|
Imagine, you havin world tours, gettin paid
|
Hoes throwin panties on the stage, gettin laid
|
You don't have a Benz, but if you get on the mic and spit it
|
You will have enough to get it, whatever you do, I'm with it
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
All you gots to do is (write)
|
Share your problems with the world, tell the story of your life
|
All you gots to do is (write)
|
And they'll be right by your side, everything gon' be tight
|
|
But when you're wrong, muthafuckas gonna talk about ya
|
When you're wrong, muthafuckas gonna criticise ya
|
When you're wrong, muthafuckas gonna talk about ya
|
When you're wrong...
|
|
(Some tell you it's a art, some tell you it's a shame)
|
|
[VERSE 2]
|
Now just be real with what you say and put some feelin up in it
|
And since everybody's dyin, put some killin up in it
|
I be right here by your side smokin kill until you're finished
|
And if you get writer's block, then nigga, chill for a minute
|
And hold up, okay, I got a tight idea
|
Just rap like you mad, the baddest muthafucka out here
|
Then bitches will respect ya, niggas might try to check ya
|
Nuts, money didn't getcha while them laws steady fetch ya
|
But think about it - you got it? Then write it down
|
Try your best to remember, don't worry now on how it sounds
|
It's gonna be cool, and if you gonna keep rappin, it's on
|
Just sacrifice your life and leave your problems at home
|
Now there's a million muthafuckas like yourself think they deserve it
|
If they get it before they do, they got to get they hands dirty
|
So just study these lines and make sure you don't forget it
|
Get on the mic and spit it, whatever you do, I'm with it
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
|
[VERSE 3]
|
Now the world is your arena, and the panel of judges
|
Made up of pimps, players, sneaky bitches, con-men and hustlers
|
I don't know why, but to qualify you must become one of these
|
Make somethin happen with either rappin or sellin some cheese
|
What, you're scared? Nigga, shit, this ain't the game to be in
|
If you can't do for you and yours, then how you think you gon' win?
|
Now where your niggas at? Get em together, then flip
|
Now where them bitches at? Buy em whatever to sip
|
But see, you can't get player points taken away, so come real
|
Disregard people's emotions, give a fuck how one feels
|
And you can witness other brothers walkin in the same path
|
Wishin for champagne, caviar, and bubble bath
|
You see, ah, that's the life that I lead
|
And if you wanna follow a model, sit right by me
|
And I can pass you some weed, you fry it up, but let me hit it
|
But get on the mic and spit it, whatever you do, I'm with it
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
|
-----------------
|
Write & Wrong
|
| Devin The Dude |
