Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Coming to Serve Ya, artist - Layzie Bone. Date of issue: 22.10.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Coming to Serve Ya |
| Hey, hey… |
| Chka-chka-chk-ah… |
| Chka-chka-chk-ah… |
| Mo murder, mo murder! |
| (murder) |
| We comin to serve yaaaaa (murder) |
| Mo murder, mo murder! |
| (murder) |
| Mo murder, mo murder! |
| (murder) |
| I’m the hardest MC you ever heard in your life |
| Big Sloan and Layzie Bone homie, murder your wife |
| We come into your house and, leave your frame frozen |
| And tec smokin, 24's on a hang like Hulk Hogan |
| My group blow do’s and 21 coast soldiers |
| Hit you hard in ya sternum, make ya chest touch ya shoulders |
| Hi Power vultures in a Caddy with coat vultures |
| Gorillas on the block that I bust off of stage coaches |
| California G’s on, billboards and posters |
| Air Force Ones, black hoodies and Range Rovers |
| It’s the takeover, on the block in a black Nova |
| With a sick-ass team with cats from Nova Scotia |
| A vest and two holsters, we pop like Orville Reden' |
| With 30-cals that flip like Mary Lou Retton |
| Uh-huh, you know we don’t play them games |
| Lil' Lay and Big Sloan, yeah, spittin the flames |
| Nigga I’ma be sleepin with my boots on when the war pop off |
| Waitin for the thieves tryin to creep, sneak and pop my locks off |
| Run up on me if you wanna, it be murder she wrote |
| I’d rather be judged by twelve than dead and left for broke |
| Pick up the phone, call Sloan, «Nigga come over quick |
| Cause there’s some bustas in the mix wanna have me carried by six |
| Bring the guns and extra clips, nigga watch a nigga flip» |
| We won’t stop until they hit, fuck it, murder yo' clique |
| You know them bullets ain’t got no names on 'em, they ain’t prejudice dude |
| I ain’t lyin, I ain’t dyin, 'til I’m scheduled to |
| I’m ahead of you by two steps, maybe fo', five, six |
| Like Green Bay I lead the +Pack+, what’chu know 'bout this? |
| Niggas know my hits, this ain’t the first time I said it |
| Quick to leave a body shredded and yo' kids beheaded |
| Got a mil', nigga bet it, and I’m takin it all |
| Niggas lames, they pathetic, I’m not takin the fall |
| It’s a goddamn shame how we do these lames |
| Got the game on lock like shackles and chains |
| Mold a man up on your block, yes, once again |
| Enough beans to turn a crook into an honest man |
| One squeeze sends men to the promised land |
| Black hoodies, black boots, black guns, black clips |
| You get all that shit if you fuck with my chips |
| You get all that shit if you fuck with my chips bitch |
| There’s a hell of a lot of ways to die, do somethin |
| Bullshittin’ll have your life set up to lose somethin, uhh |
| Prove somethin, uhh, 'fore you take your last breath |
| Or those couple of steps, uhh |
| Catch a nigga by the drum baby, and leave him alone |
| He’ll bleed in front of his children |
| And scope out haters' situations |
| It’s all Mo Thug and that’s how we do it baby, killers |