Y'all Ain't Ready

[Livin' Proof] My west coast niggas official You heard that them cali killers will clip you Catch you slipping up, my circle of boss niggas'll fix you And my Brooklyn New York shit ain’t an issue, oh Cause it’s only this livin' proof that I give you Hold up, hold up Let me back this shit up one time Get these niggas this heavy promotion shit Chilly city Y’all ain’t pulling them hammers up It’s 718 562, catch a 187 38s park up your coup Yeah, this cold shit, we hustlin' stars Locked up stoops, touch the law when they roll Move fast, cops gonn’ shoot, oh And that ain’t only that coop that cooper project shit But erm, we got joints you hit a martian with Make you lean like they do in Dallas, Stojaković Fly your head like Canadians on some hockey shit Ny long beach, the mob, yeah My nigga dice told me just booked the flight I’m charged up, paid for D boy shit, my whole squads up Chilly city, heavy promotion, get your arms up You feel the fire when I light the flame That 40 cal shine like I let the rifle aim [Julius Luciano] I’m a neighbor to my speech, I mean I live by my words Mama raised me in the streets, baby crib by the curb Still sagging in baggy pants to hold my hammer Call it my hammer pants When I blam the ratchet you bastards dance Put cheese on your head, no packers fan From Cali to Pakistan, I roll around with sick niggas Ambulance Living proof, fuck with your cali fam New York city been real, since it was called New Amsterdam I keep it candid man You say you’re goin' h.a.m? Can it man Now you's a can of spam Faggot scram! I keep 2 women on the side, I’m in the middle like an ampersand From the city by the sea and ample sand (Long Beach) Yeah the shoe gang is typhoons, dig it Our music is so vivid I call it iTunes Yeah Y’all small, tiny, miniature, minor We real big, real spit, authentic saliva [Andrew 'Dice' Dinero] Put out a APB homie my mind is lost How could I think twice about shooting you When I'm minus thoughts No time for talk Yo, I fire that steel I’m a honest boss so I fire at will You just a poser nigga, you don’t pose a threat You a actor You should be on the set, on the set (Shoe Gang!) We gets it in, like no one can Blaze our arms Once we raise our arms Like a show of hands You want fame, I’ll give you the snub Put your face on the news Give you some pov(?) You want your own line of clothes, I’ll send you some slubs Put your name on a shirt after 'in loving memory of' I still got chunks of the last crew that wanted beef in my teeth I’m a beast, you can view it on my tweets Your flow is choppy but fluid is my speech You can call my spit drool, cause I do it in my sleep Y’all ain’t ready [Demetrius Capone] From my fitted to my shoe strings Nigga this is shoe gang Repping crip or blood, that’s why I’m spitting blue flame My ratchet your bitch, my dodger, fitted They all 3 blue brains Crawl the street in the new range Niggas know I’m keepin a weapon on my waist I draw with the first hand and the second hand a trace Hand over hand that’s what I call crossfire Y’all, all expire when I step into the place In the flesh like a heroin needle Or shake when I americanee you I speak fluid flu and malaria meas? I’m rarest disease you I’m a fallout, you barely the measles Turn a pair of police into paraplegics Derenger seeks you In a wheel chair, the sheriffs the sequel Dry snitching ain’t fly Fry and fly, apparently equal Desert n eagle, long beach is resident evil, nigga [Kenny Siegel] Kenny’s in the forefront Y’all in the back like scoliosis Grindin, the dough that I’m folding is old as moses Stay high The dope that I’m smoking is over potent It’s bout as green as the Hulk is but even more strong than Hogan I’m stand up But I ain’t close to joking when toaster holting I’m quick draw You internet dial-up, slow at loading I’ll let my chrome explode and hurt your lungs Like Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis! Yeah I eat emcees, bring me more and see me gorge I’m frozen fire, something you ain’t never seen before I told myself I’ma quit drinking but I fiend for more I keep on fucking with spirits, like a ouiji-board Yeah, yeah, yeah Eyes low, look like I’m half-sleep Leaning so far look like I’m driving from the back seat I pack heat, blow my tool, you get your soul removed I put your body on my arms like I’m holding you Y’all ain’t ready, y’all ain’t ready to hit the streets Y’all ain’t ready for the war, y’all ain’t ready for my team Y’all ain’t ready, y’all ain’t ready to mop up C.O.B heavy promotion, front get popped up Y’all ain’t ready, y’all ain’t ready for east coast shit West coast shit, botch coast the best coast Y’all ain’t ready, y’all ain’t ready This right here some real street shit Let’s keep it all rap Y’all don’t want no beef shit Y’all ain’t ready