Comin For Ya Head - Wu-Block, Styles P, Sheek

I mean yeah, nigga!

It’s feeding time!

It’s getting warm outside, these niggas, like to put they earrings in,

and pull they chains out and shit

(Put the bibs on these niggas!) Let’s go!

Nah, you don’t roll enough

Louis duffle bag don’t hold enough

Drinking the brown liquor for both of us

Rose on table, Jesus head with the cable

Gun shots is fatal, my bars is prenatal

I kill little niggas, up close, peel little niggas

We the hottest out, still, little niggas

I’m better in my prime

Spitting harder, looking better than ya’ll little niggas

And I done been here a dime

Your opinion didn’t matter since Big heard me rhyme

Little nigga and Puff, or caught a spot with a nine

Hand all sticky, my tires is all Mickey

She kissing on my neck, I’m too black for a hickey

I’m still down with Kobe, got a feeling he could make it

If Miami and Oklahoma don’t take it

Your face found up, like I won’t come there and break it

Jake the Snake and hatchet, can’t Crystal Lake it

Most of my goons is bow-legged, bald head niggas

From Syracuse, four-fifths, gold plated

Doing lines off coffee tables in the Waldorf

Nose red, walk into to the bathroom, door off

My man said I went raw last night

Heard I slid up in a whore last night

Still saucy, I plead the fifth, six G’s I sniffed

If I sneeze, the left side of my nose might rip

Dark skin, hunchback killing machines

You eat seal meat, dick stay up for a fucking week

Attending brutal rap battles in Zaire

I heard «Toney, Boombaye!»

from the crowd, yeah

My man head ice, luck smooth right there

Blood diamonds sitting real chunky in my right ear

Killas, skin your ass with no contracts

And little niggas got nowhere to hide but the projects

I just woke up, I got money on my mind

Grab my nine from underneath the bed

I put my vest on, smoke something

Cock my gun back, make sure it’s filled up with lead

I’m coming for your head, I’m coming for your head

I’m coming for your head, yup, yup

I’m coming for your head, I’m coming for your head

I’m coming for your head, yeah

Ralph Ellison, invisible man, vanishing

Come back like Arizona Ron, speaking Spanish

And you’re panicking, oughta stay still like a mannequin

Dark side like Darth, yeah, young Anakin

Skywalker, fly talker, rhyme even better though

Salute them niggas that died, those with a federal

Charge yo, Incarcerated Scarface, yard flow

Polo overalls, short set, son of Mars, though

Probably in the crib, getting high, watching Fargo

A lady cop and some hit men

I quarterback the coke like Big Ben

To a bunch of a dirty niggas like Pig Pen

No Charlie Brown, though, pump in the pound, though

Coming for your head, I run your ass out of town, yo

This is Sheek Louch, Ghostface Killah

And the other Ghost, you can fuck around and get your mother poked

Bees wax all in the spinners, most of my killas is winners

Hiding in Stevie glasses in Venice

Blast first, drop the burner and burst

Burgundy blood, fell out the thug, he got trapped by a team curse

I’m more relentless, aiming a strap, from off the benches

Hit you from right field, intensely

Your money ain’t long, your money is gone

Your money mine now, homeboy, now run to your moms

Sorry gangstas get thrown in the hole

We chilling in the Trump Towers, onions and soul

Let’s roll, cuz when the clock hit, my niggas’ll bowl

It’s like dice, nigga, open the hole

Fisters on the get go, silk shirts, this is how the click roll

Strong hammers, doofy like Klitschko

And where your bitch go?

Surrounded by the rich, yo

Power mitts and bricks, yo, what