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mr serv on - time to check my fetty 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 n-gg- come shizzout on mine.
ya hear what i’m saying?
i’m gonna handle that.
i’m gonna show these motherf-ckers i ain’t playing.
that’s the american way.
i mean i’m kicking up crack houses
knocking motherf-cking 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-gg- that’s half home
open up shop on six and berone street
the fiends walking around, every n-gg- out there know me
hear them on the beeper, n-gg- 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-gg- 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-cking 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 c-ckroaches to sleep
cruise up drive to erata to the 3rd ward
professional execution, f-ck 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-t, i aint slippin on sh-t
we carry gats and sh-t, bulletproof vests incase n-gg-s talkin sh-t
wanna creep up on us killers, drug dealers
ghetto millionare where n-gg-s and b-tches feel us

[mr. serv-on]
fake n-gg-s 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
n-gg-s are losing thier life living that heroin and cocain
i trust n-body but my nickel plated nino
have you seen her, f-ck with my greens n-gg- you goin meet her

[master p]
meet your maker, one way ticket to jamaica
now your b-tch with me, and i’m a f-ck 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-ck with soldiers you coo coo for cocoa puffs
cause n-gg-s 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-tches calling me daddy
got some mountains in the trunk, n-gg- they goin faster so what the f-ck 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-gg-s trying to short me
big mo take me to the calliop so i can see slim
hit the desert eagle and pay these b-tches like a candy painted reagle
now i’m ready to set shop like buggsy seagel
on the parkway you b-tches gonna die my way
call my n-gg- cujo, it’s goin down
check my fetty n-gg-

- mr serv on lyrics

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