Lyrics We Comin' - Sheek Louch, UNK

We Comin'

New York, Down South, Bay Area
I roll on down and look around
A lot of muh’fuckers don’t know me now
So I cock my pound, pull out my chain
Look for a bitch wanna give me brain
Let her know I’m really there to sell 'caine
If it’s good I could be on that train
On that flight, by tonight
Long as the dope boy price is right
Get up out my way
Last time, next time I’ll spray
Pop that trunk, Sheek and UNK
Tell Montay yo let that bump
I ain’t no chump, move over dawg
Clear my space out when I walk
Elbows thrown, yeah I’m grown
I ain’t no king of no microphone
I’m the king of my house, king of my son
Feel like a king when I’m holdin a gun
Ain’t no killer but I’ll vouch you two run
Five up in you boy ain’t no fun
'fore they chalk it out
Got a little stressed I’ll «Walk It Out»
'fore your ass be dead lyin on the floor, hot ass led
White t-shirt be straight up red (YEAH!)
Yo!
I ain’t gon' lie, I done came out set the world on fire
To the top slot couple niggaz got retired
Some lost then some got downsized
Everybody know me, everybody know thee
Oomp Camp, introduce them to the O.C.
Ay, why a B wanna try me?
See, now you plugged to the IV
And, when I’m in N.Y.C.
Sheek Louch got the plug, I ride by thee
G code, when I’m on the road
Connected with the realest that keep the good smoke
that pack, nigga where you at?
I’m way up front why y’all haters in the back?
I’ll tell you that, pop a few tracks
Spend a lil' money you’ll get it right back
'Specially when UNK’s on that track
It’s Oomp Camp, D-Block, nigga pump it to the max
That’s right, niggaz got it now
Cuttin, gunnin, nigga lay it down
Seven, runnin, niggaz in the ground
Money, mo' money, all on my round
Get it by the pound, shut the block down
Oomp Camp, D-Block, we run this town
We comin
Geah, don’t stop, get it get it
In the South with my Yankee fitted
In New York with my Down South rented
Hammer cocked but my windows tinted
You don’t know me, from one of the three
(LOX) hottest groups in history
I’m Sheek, Louch, Jadakiss
and that’s my homey, S.P.
Go go shorty
And leave that deadbeat home cause homey pushin 40
He just want a stay, yeah he don’t wanna play
Nah, you know what you say?
Get get get up out my way
I talk what I know, liquor drugs
money guns and them thugs
Street life, I get it poppin
Sheek ain’t home I’m car shoppin
24's, slip up doors
Candy paint on all them whores
Hold it down, whatever town
Play me close and you’ll hear that sound
Pow!
We comin