| New Beanie Sigel! |
| Freeway!
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| Don’t get scurred
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| Fat shout, Beat Street
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| 1, 2 — Sigel comin for you
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| 3, 4 — I’m bout to kick in your door
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| 5, 6 — Man I want those bricks
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| 7, 8 — You gon' give up dat weight
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| 9, 10 — I’ll put the Glock to ya chin
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| 11, 12 — Man I’ll see you in hell
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| I handle tools like hammers and ratchets
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| Gats wit metal attachments, how you want it metal or plastic
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| Disrespect your fam bastard, close your casket
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| Then I give 'em a can of hold your ashes
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| Visions of the killer for we rose a passin
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| True killer, true thug, never show no passion
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| Hit your rug, hit your ceiling, if I know if you stashin
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| Wrong, nigga the rug, nigga know who you passin
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| Fresh year from rammin off the zany’s fours and perks
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| Keep the semi handy jammin you for war or work
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| Niggas like the border goin bizurk
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| On the roof bangin dat swat, lettin off shots and spurts
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| Dey tryin to trap me in the back of the yard
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| Man I’m lettin every cat fall hittin from the cap to the sarge
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| Can’t see me back in the yard, two wacks back to the wall
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| Use the two gat stash pack in the wall
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| Picture Mac liftin up racks in the yard
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| I had a block shiftin up knocking off racks by the yard
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| The dope from dem dudes, smokeless confused, shit
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| They ain’t know if they want a crack or the saw
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| Switch they life, straight from the pipe to the straw
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| Coke in they vein, what you want the dope or the cane
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| I open the game, to sniffin the D, X to the Z
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| Hot shit from B-Sig consecutively
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| 1, 2 — Freeway’s comin for yo' ass
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| 3, 4 — You better watch yo' stash
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| 5, 6 — Have you duckin from dem clips
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| 7, 8 — Fuck it I can’t wait
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| Y’all niggas crazy think Free won’t draw the lev'
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| Prefer the nine but I got the four four instead
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| I move dymes who your dyme get your whore in bed
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| Tell that triflin bitch I want more than head
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| Free might spark at ya clip take more than bread
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| Guns and bricks while young bulls hug the block
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| Dey love the strip, help 'em get chains and watches
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| Guns and kicks, Freeway my name is priceless, flow is sick
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| And remember if you lie on Free
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| Lie in the lake, while your bitch lies on Free
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| She ride on the snake and my whip over her key
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| We ride in the jakes, empty clips hop on Amtrak
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| Out of the state, broody shit, you and yo man, right outta ya case
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| Hold dis clip blow your brain right outta ya face
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| Flow legendary, hotter than Mase
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| Dude Free never where we outta the case
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| Roc-A-Fella pop criss til we outta the case
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| Form the hood nigga Nikes, Delts, and 'Lo Sport
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| Hood niggas just like me, belted and blow court
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| Hood chickens just bite me well and blow squad
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| I was 16, 12,000 wit no job
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| And I skipped school, gripped a bitch wit no ride
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| See the crack smoked leave bitch wit no thighs, no tits
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| Rob hustlers wit no clips, no guns, left niggas wit no chips
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| And the flow runs like the Mississippi River
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| And your ho comes, ya bitch hear me when I whisper
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| Silence all guns hit 'em fo-fo-fo-fo-for dey hit ya
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| If we comin for you than nigga we gonna get ya |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Coming For You , by - DJ Clue. Song from the album The Professional 2, in the genre R&B