Time To Check My Fetty lyrics
Song information
Artist: Mr. Serv-On Album: Life Insurance
Lyrics
[Master p] Huh, it's like this here player Ain't no rules in the ghetto It aint really bout the dollar value It's bout the principle A life ain't worth nothing Any nigga come shizzout on mine Ya hear what I'm saying? I'm gonna handle that I'm gonna show these motherfuckers I ain't playing That's the american way I mean I'm kicking up crack houses Knocking motherfucking doors in cause I gotta get mine
[Chorus x2]
Time to get your fetty Get your paper Come short with the cream we goin take you
[Master p] Went half on a key with my partner mr. serv-on Eighteen oz's add up, nigga that's half home Open up shop on six and berone street The fiends walking around, every nigga out there know me Hear them on the beeper, nigga it's on
[Mr. serv-on] I done sold sixteen, I'm on my way home Two came up short, somebody must be smoking P grabbed that age k, nigga we aint joking
[Master p] Bullets got no disname, a pound and back of that good cain 1997, ?????????????? the dope game
[Mr. serv-on] Some call me frank nitty, cause I aint taking no shorts I'm aiming that beam at your motherfucking heart
[Master p] Let the windows down on my green eddie bauer A 187 for this crystal white powder So serv-on, cut those lights off and creep That's when we put them cockroaches to sleep Cruise up drive to erata to the 3rd ward Professional execution, fuck a murder charge
[Chorus x4]
[Master p] I'm paranoid, I can't sleep, I think my phone tapped Rest in peace little jacob in the calliop got kidnapped Now I'm trippin on shit, I aint slippin on shit We carry gats and shit, bulletproof vests incase niggas talkin shit Wanna creep up on us killers, drug dealers Ghetto millionare where niggas and bitches feel us
[Mr. serv-on] Fake niggas step back, jackers meet my chrome gat They kill my cousin fulling ghosts his never come back It's an eye for an eye in this dope game Niggas are losing thier life living that heroin and cocain I trust nobody but my nickel plated nino Have you seen her, fuck with my greens nigga you goin meet her
[Master p] Meet your maker, one way ticket to jamaica Now your bitch with me, and I'm a fuck her, then break her Ain't no rules in this dope game But don't get high on your own supplies man But if you fuck with soldiers you coo coo for cocoa puffs Cause niggas in my hood losing thier life for furl and cooked rocks
[Chorus x2]
[Mr. serv-on] Hit the block in the purple caddy, got you bitches calling me daddy Got some mountains in the trunk, nigga they goin faster so what the fuck you want Slanging them green birds and lemon drops Pop a pound of that cali green serving fiends Got em fat like fifties Which one of you niggas trying to short me Big mo take me to the calliop so I can see slim Hit the desert eagle and pay these bitches like a candy painted reagle Now I'm ready to set shop like buggsy seagel On the parkway you bitches gonna die my way Call my nigga cujo, it's goin down Check my fetty nigga
[from http://lyrics.doheth.co.uk]
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