Time to Check My Fetty lyrics

[Master P]
Huh, it's like this here player
Ain't no rules in the ghetto
It ain't really bout the dollar value
It's bout the principle
A life ain't worth nothing
Any n*gga 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*gga that's half home
Open up shop on six and berone street
The fiends walking around, every n*gga out there know me
Hear them on the beeper, n*gga 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*gga we ain't 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 ain't 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 ain't slippin on sh*t
We carry gats and sh*t, bulletproof vests incase n*ggas talkin sh*t
Wanna creep up on us killers, drug dealers
Ghetto millionare where n*ggas and b*tches feel us
[Mr. Serv-On]
Fake n*ggas 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*ggas are losing thier life living that heroin and cocain
I trust nobody but my nickel plated nino
Have you seen her, f*ck with my greens n*gga 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*ggas 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*gga 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*ggas 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*gga cujo, it's goin down
Check my fetty n*gga