[Intro]
(Hmmmmmm, hmmmm)
Yeah, yeah, uh
Yeah, yeah

[Verse]
Tell'em what the estate for
I push forward with four words
Power to a hundred or four more
Babygirl, tell'em I am the key
'Til I tore doors and forced through barriers
To the bare core
Or maybe I'm the massacre
I beg to the devil 'til the mass occur
And he swallow words
And allure an urge to spit thoughts back
The form of words is poetic
The mourning adjourned the aesthetic
The post mortem of forced rhythms
Or the death of synthetic
False art, like Cole said
It's false prophets pullin' false profit
'Til they lost profit
And tossed a lot of loss on it
They not artists
All red all on audit
I got the gat on automatic
'Til it blast static all where a n***a hat is
Shit, I may not got the bag
But I bagged the baddest bitch
Had the baddest bitch
Glad to grab your baddest bitch
To make you look your worst
In a hearse
To your death, you can beg for her
Got her on lock, shit
'Til the locksmith is locked out
I popped out
Donnie Donnie, dark shit
(Donnie Donnie, dark shit)
Yeah
[Outro]
Ready or not, ready or not
Ready or not, ready or not
Ready or not, ready or not
Ready or not, ready or not
Ready or not, ready or not
Ready or not, ready or not
Ready or not, ready or not
N***a, here I come