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Ready For Me?
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I don't think the radio is even ready for me. Off my new album in progress called 'A HAMILTON & HOPE'.
hiphop rap music artist new york city new jersey underground lyrical urban nyc poet rapper staten island nj poetic truth shaolin penns grove shaolinyankee ahamiltonandhope concretecollabs thetruthhurts
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My new album "METAMORPHIC" is out now on all major streaming platforms. Visit my official website www.jcthetruth.com for more details!
What's up, my name is JC and I've been writing and producing music since 2004 as an independent hip-hop artist. You can check out my entire library here on Soundclick (which includes mixtapes) or play my albums on major streaming platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, iHeart Radio, Amazon, Napster and Soundcloud.
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • New School
Charts
Peak #775
Peak in subgenre #77
Author
Produced By: Jeff Clark aka JC
Rights
Jeff Clark aka JC
Uploaded
January 17, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.2 MB • 128 kbps • 3:29
Story behind the song
Wanted to do something fun and out there. Something to laugh and dance to.
Lyrics
READY FOR ME - by JC The Truth" VERSE 1 I'm taking over Watch ya shoulder Blowing like a Supernova Getting bolder Gutter soldier Sliver like a Starvin� cobra I�ll write Till they throw me up in a hearse. I got these heartless haters Analyzing each word. I paint a picture Stamp a sticker Set the ticker Let you linger Grab the clicker Move a finger You�re the thinker I�m the stinger. My pain tells me Just pull the friggin trigger Instead I brain rape So you can call me J-The Ripper. Man, When will you listeners ever learn You�re up in my brain With my pain and man it hurts. What you think when I�m feeling Is none of my concern. What you feel when I�m thinking Is why I put in work. What you see when I�m preaching Is how I lay a verse When you see me get heated Is when I start to curse. When you hear me start flowing I�m fresher than a cert. Right when you open ya mouth I hook ya like a perch. CHORUS: I don�t think the radio Is even ready for me It�s like putting Freddy Kruger Up on Sesame Street Guess I�m just too deep I like to speak from my feet I�ll repeat The radio isn�t ready for me. I don�t think the radio Is even ready for me It�s like putting Michael Jackson Up on U.F.C. Guess I�m just too deep I like to speak from my feet I�ll repeat The radio isn�t ready for me. VERSE 2 I make a microphone sizzle Like I�m frying a fish stick The dragon throat beast. I got heat in my spit. My kicks crack curbs Every time I step NJ, PA, NY, Who�s next? I�m the best of the best Poetically fresh Fuck a number two pencil And a scantron test The real world�s got me Snatched up by the neck I�ma slip that grip Like a lubed up breast. Ima get my checks Like a medical visit Listen snitches keep your distance Underground�s my position. My vision�s simply gifted With encrypted precision It�s slim pickens in this business Either fade or you glisten. While you�re playing the victim I�ll be locked in my room Assassinating tracks Like I�m John Wilkes Booth. I�m gonna make these hits Till they torch my ass Step Back, White boy with the mic�s gonna rap CHORUS: I don�t think the radio Is even ready for me It�s like putting Michael Bolton Up on MTV Guess I�m just too deep I like to speak from my feet I�ll repeat The radio isn�t ready for me. I don�t think the radio Is even ready for me It�s like putting William Hung Up on BET Guess I�m just too deep I like to speak from my feet I�ll repeat The radio isn�t ready for me. VERSE 3: I�m a broke ass cracker Yea I said it, a cracker Irish Mick, young poet Yankee New York rapper What�s the matter I got a million reasons to write But I can�t turn it to rap Just because that I�m white. Man, my spits so fire I chip paint off whips An automatic 4 door Or a five speed stick. I wish this dumb dicks Would just open eyes Categories on the tuner Keepin listeners blind. When will you realize What this shit is about Storytelling through the vision Of an artist in prison Not an inmate per say But I�m still locked up Got emotions going through me And I feel I�m stuck. Until that beat flows through me Man it�s like my crutch. It�s how I release beef Without throwing a punch. It�s the only way that I can live By turning my cheek, And if not There would already be chains on my feet. CHORUS: I don�t think the radio Is even ready for me It�s like dressing Al Pacino In a FUBU-T Guess I�m just too deep I like to speak from my feet I�ll repeat The radio isn�t ready for me. I don�t think the radio Is even ready for me It�s like putting Jeffrey Dahmer Up on Chef TV Guess I�m just too deep I like to speak from my feet I�ll repeat The radio isn�t ready for me.
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