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letra de who’s ready...?! - zinedin o.

[hook]
now what’s the aftermath of this master flow
a dozen of hoe mc bodies on the floor
one by one by one, take ’em down in a row
but who’s ready to go next though?

[verse 1]
lay rappers down with these sheets that i write on
mics smoking, rappers coughing straight to their caskets
harkening back to the cl-ssics, sharpening my pen
lurking in the shades, no i ain’t got a lot of accolades to brag about yet
but if you talk sh-t, i’m murking your whole outlet
i’m going all out, yeah i’m ’bout that
and my pen game is f-cking outrageous
go into a cardiac arrest when flipping through my pages
’cause i’m carefully constructing these words
bu i’m carefree, ’cause you t-rds are destined for doom, reluctant to admit it
but it’s so, ’cause i’m a schizo already zoomed in
ready to click boom when i spit a sick tune
i don’t need major recognition to go ham
i got so much d-mn wild in me, i should fricking be caged up
and if you attempt dissing, i’ll make sure this day’s your last
f it, i’ll blast caps at everyone’s -ss, it’s m-ss murder

[hook]
what’s the aftermath of this master flow
a dozen of hoe mc bodies on the floor
one by one by one, take ’em down in a row
but who’s ready to go next though?

[verse 2]
was always the underdog, but now i’m the upper hound
with the upper hand in the underground, turn the sound up
what? start a movement from the ground up, you’re wound up
don’t attempt no fricking counterattack, just round up
and surrender, boy i render you powerless
a contender for the crown, keep your girl’s c-nt tender
hunt down all you clowns and dismember you from the circus
i’m in the circuit of the wild, a young, hung offender
you’re probably another molly popper, so i just pop you
this rap sh-t’s simple to me, like to a skater popping an ollie
a hater? you better flee, stomp on your chest with my feet
and i won’t stop beating till your heart stops beating
the new eminem sendin’ em h-m-phone shots, a synonym
for k!llin’ em, each shot precise, if i don’t shoot, then i slice
on the top iced, i’m mount everestin’
rhyme amount everlastin’, blaw blaw, everblastin’
masterin’ the art form, spit hard for ’em in god form
raw dog a fricking bar, then it becomes a bygone
and i keep riding more sixteens, i’m a sick teen with a quill
your b-tch fillable, i’m feelable on the real, what’s the deal and

[hook]
what’s the aftermath of this master flow
a dozen of hoe mc bodies on the floor
one by one by one, take ’em down in a row
but who’s ready to go next though?
n-body

- zinedin o

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