Styles P - Comin' For Ya Head lyrics

[Intro: Sheek Louch (Ghostface k**ah)] I mean yeah, n***a! It's feeding time! It's getting warm outside, these n***as, like to put they earrings in, and pull they chains out and sh** (Put the bibs on these n***as!) Let's go! [Sheek Louch] Nah, you don't roll enough Louis duffle bag don't hold enough Drinking the brown liquor for both of us Rose on table, Jesus head with the cable Gun shots is fatal, my bars is prenatal I k** little n***as, up close, peel little n***as We the hottest out, still, little n***as I'm better in my prime Spitting harder, looking better than ya'll little n***as And I done been here a dime Your opinion didn't matter since Big heard me rhyme Little n***a and Puff, or caught a spot with a nine Hand all sticky, my tires is all Mickey She kissing on my neck, I'm too black for a hickey I'm still down with Kobe, got a feeling he could make it If Miami and Oklahoma don't take it Your face found up, like I won't come there and break it Jake the Snake and hatchet, can't Crystal Lake it [Ghostface k**ah] Most of my goons is bow-legged, bald head n***as From Syracuse, four-fifths, gold plated Doing lines off coffee tables in the Waldorf Nose red, walk into to the bathroom, door off My man said I went raw last night Heard I slid up in a who*e last night Still saucy, I plead the fifth, six G's I sniffed If I sneeze, the left side of my nose might rip Dark skin, hunchback k**ing machines You eat seal meat, dick stay up for a f**ing week Attending brutal rap battles in Zaire I heard "Toney, Boombaye!" from the crowd, yeah My man head ice, luck smooth right there Blood diamonds sitting real chunky in my right ear k**as, skin your a** with no contracts And little n***as got nowhere to hide but the projects [Hook: Sheek Louch] I just woke up, I got money on my mind Grab my nine from underneath the bed I put my vest on, smoke something co*k my gun back, make sure it's filled up with lead I'm coming for your head, I'm coming for your head I'm coming for your head, yup, yup I'm coming for your head, I'm coming for your head I'm coming for your head, yeah [Styles P] Ralph Ellison, invisible man, vanishing Come back like Arizona Ron, speaking Spanish And you're panicking, oughta stay still like a mannequin Dark side like Darth, yeah, young Anakin Skywalker, fly talker, rhyme even better though Salute them n***as that died, those with a federal Charge yo, Incarcerated Scarface, yard flow Polo overalls, short set, son of Mars, though Probably in the crib, getting high, watching Fargo A lady cop and some hit men I quarterback the coke like Big Ben To a bunch of a dirty n***as like Pig Pen No Charlie Brown, though, pump in the pound, though Coming for your head, I run your a** out of town, yo This is Sheek Louch, Ghostface k**ah And the other Ghost, you can f** around and get your mother poked [Raekwon] Bees wax all in the spinners, most of my k**as is winners Hiding in Stevie gla**es in Venice Blast first, drop the burner and burst Burgundy blood, fell out the thug, he got trapped by a team curse I'm more relentless, aiming a strap, from off the benches Hit you from right field, intensely Your money ain't long, your money is gone Your money mine now, homeboy, now run to your moms Sorry gangstas get thrown in the hole We chilling in the Trump Towers, onions and soul Let's roll, cuz when the clock hit, my n***as'll bowl It's like dice, n***a, open the hole Fisters on the get go, silk shirts, this is how the click roll Strong hammers, doofy like Klitschko And where your b**h go? Surrounded by the rich, yo Power mitts and bricks, yo, what [Hook]