We Ready, I Declare War lyrics

[Troy:] What that shit talking
[Guy:] Uh, Pastor Troy
[Troy:] Get the fuck away from my motherfuckin door
[Guy: (Knocking on door)] This P nigga, I'mma sign you up nigga
[Troy:] I do not feel like being disturbed
[Guy:] That D.S.G.B. album was straight my nigga
[Troy:] Will you please get away from my motherfuckin door
[Guy:] UUGGHHH!
[Troy:] I'll probly let your ass in

[phone ringing]
[Pastor Troy:] Y'all watch this, watch this
[laughs]
[Guy on phone:] No Limit Studios
[Pastor Troy:] yea, yea, yea, can I speak to P
[Guy on phone:] P ain'y here
[Pastor Troy:] Hey yo, tell him that Pastor Troy and them Down South
Georgia Boys said since everybody thank they soldiers then what's up we'll
go to war

[Voices in background:]

[Pastor Troy and Lil Pete adlibs]

[Pastor Troy]
They had me dodgin' the law, while I was serving my raw
Though I was young in the game, a lot of things I saw
I just bought that fifty pack, and just believed in me
And with barely could ease, that fifty pack fit the peas
I got mo' cheese than Kraft, but teachers laughed at me
They asked me what would I be with out my damn degree

[Pastor Troy:]

KD had called and gave me the word
Said this nigga had ten birds, in Augusta for the week
From the islands
As soon as K told me this shit, I started smiling
Cause all I could see was money piling
Shit, on top of money
Now, with the money for the week, and Chesapeake
The heat made my nigga take a break
If I could catch all 10 of them bitches, and I don't look suspicious

This shit is for all the motherfuckin niggaz out there
doin what the fuck they gotta do to feed the family

[Pastor Troy]
Hangin up out the window, ready to blow
I'm harassed by crackers, the stress of the Pastor
-Look in my eyes-
I'm in the rain sellin my shadow
but it's gone still follow me, so I battle
-Nah, you gone make it-
Naw fuck that, cuz you lyin

You know what's funny
When the shit that makes you laugh, makes you cry
Hell I'm 'bout ready to cry now
Thinking 'bout my cousin Brandon
And how we used to clown
And then I hear them two shots
And seen him hit the ground
I think about Chuck a rapper soon to be a legend
And then I see him lying there bleeding and begging
Now every second is divided up
At .5 I think of Brandon .5 of Chuck

Yeah this song is dedicated in memory of mister Terell Alfago Davis
Mister Davis was gunned down at the hands of two Richmond County
Sheriff's Department officers down here in Augusta, Georgia
My nigga I'ma tell yall just like this
them motherfuckers thank they some god damn bullies
But until we get wit they ass they gone continue to bully us around
and now all my niggaz done gone above the law

Come on cuz, we almost there
We almost there cuz
Goddamn, where the finish line

Fuck this shit, I need some chees
And I need the cookie and the nestle
If I have to kill then God bless me
All these pussy motherfuckers, they shouldn't have test me
Left me looking like the villian , I was thinking of ending
Nobody knew what I was going through
All these motherfuckers saying what they gonna do

And I am coming with the range
Not calling no names on P
But this them same boys they said would never reach the key
Met Mister E. and him and me decided we could win
We flipped the script and we bout to be legal kingpins
Up in the wind
That message sent from old Savannah
They down with me so I ain't got to call Atlanta
But if I do it ain't nothing but even worse for you
Go call your soldiers

It was this nigga with this black Cutlass
Named Chris
He had shot at Cott but he missed
First Error
Now he riding in terror
Over shoulder ever looking
I told him when he came he should
Have stayed in Brooklyn
Reason Being
They knew that he was kin to Pat Reed
Pat had lied they believe
So they looking for them keys
Now can you see where bragging get ya
Them niggas ain't shooting for fun

[Pastor Troy]
Lord I'm sorry, I'm tired
God I'm tired, God I'm tired
Don't nobody know what it is, don't nobody know it's like
I'm livin today thru tommorrow and I know I ain't gon' make it

[Verse 1]
Livin today thru tommorrow while yesterday was cursed
I put the pistol in my mouth and yell fuck the earth
I worked for food stamps without the book instead of helping me

[Talking:]
Cuz I'm tellin you man they aint nothing else to talk about
the same shit every motherfuckin album, I dont give a damn how many he put
out he talk about the same shit from goddamn T.R.U.
you got D's,candy paint,wood grain with the leather seats
mercedes,baby,lady,baby,crazy,merecdes
I done heard that shit 2pac wannabe ass nigga (mocking P) "I aint no rapper
I write short films"