Mr. Serv-on - Time To Check My Fetty lyrics

(feat. Master P) [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 n***a come shizzout on mine. Ya hear what I'm saying? I'm gonna handle that. I'm gonna show these motherf**ers I ain't playing. That's the american way. I mean I'm kicking up crack houses Knocking motherf**ing 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, n***a that's half home Open up shop on six and berone street The fiends walking around, every n***a out there know me Hear them on the beeper, n***a 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, n***a 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 motherf**ing 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 co*kroaches to sleep Cruise up drive to erata to the 3rd ward Professional execution, f** 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 sh**, I aint slippin on sh** We carry gats and sh**, bulletproof vests incase n***as talkin sh** Wanna creep up on us k**ers, drug dealers Ghetto millionare where n***as and b**hes feel us [Mr. Serv-On] Fake n***as step back, jackers meet my chrome gat They k** my cousin fulling ghosts his never come back It's an eye for an eye in this dope game n***as are losing thier life living that h**n and c**ain I trust nobody but my nickel plated nino Have you seen her, f** with my greens n***a you goin meet her [Master P] Meet your maker, one way ticket to Jamaica Now your b**h with me, and I'm a f** 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 f** with soldiers you coo coo for cocoa puffs Cause n***as 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 b**hes calling me daddy Got some mountains in the trunk, n***a they goin faster so what the f** 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 n***as trying to short me Big Mo take me to the calliop so I can see Slim Hit the desert eagle and pay these b**hes like a candy painted reagle Now I'm ready to set shop like Buggsy Seagel On the parkway you b**hes gonna die my way Call my n***a cujo, it's goin down Check my fetty n***a