Busta Rhymes, French Montana, Uncle Murda, Reek Da Villian - Lay Em To Rest lyrics

Take 'em up, take 'em out
Bring 'em out dead! (Dead)
Shine 'em up, shine 'em up
Shine a bald head! (Head)
One gun, two gun, three gun, four!
You're mine! It's all
About secret especialist
Yuh, somebody call the hospital now!
There will be a couple of EMS unit's needed!
Reek Da Villian! French Montana!
Uncle Murda! Bus-a-Bus!
Somebody ass in trouble now automatic!

Yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
You know you niggas fuckin' with the best
Y'all! (Best, y'all)
We comin' for your motherfuckin' chest
Y'all! (Chest, y'all)
We 'bout to lay you niggas down to rest
Y'all!
(Rest, y'all) , yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
Yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
You know you niggas fuckin' with the best
Y'all! (Best, y'all)
We comin' for your motherfuckin' chest
Y'all! (Chest, y'all)
We 'bout to lay you niggas down to rest
Y'all! (Rest, y'all) , yes, yes
Y'all! (Yes, y'all) , yes!

Ayy, fresh up out the South Bron
Nigga name Montana (Who?)
All black grey bands and the black Phantom
(Ha)
Here is somethin that you can't understand
Ain't nothin realer man i got a saudoff
Knock your motherfuckin' door off (Door off)
Ain't nothin realer, press record off
Me and Murda, Reek, Busta on track
Call your favorite DJ, tell 'em bring it back

(yeah! yeah) This so Nineteen Nineties
Before Diddy had niggas in
Suit's that was shiney (Before Mase)
Man, this so gangsta and gutter
If you beefin' with a nigga you
'gon step to his mother
(I'm just sayin', miss)
Huh! This so New York City
Let's start the beef back up
For them killin' Biggie (We got you, Frank)
Man this make you wanna go
Throw the Timb's on
The beat's on, stomp a nigga to a MOP song

Yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
You know you niggas fuckin' with the best
Y'all! (Best, y'all)
We comin' for your motherfuckin' chest
Y'all! (Chest, y'all)
We 'bout to lay you niggas down to rest
Y'all!
(Rest, y'all) , yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
Yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
You know you niggas fuckin' with the best
Y'all! (Best, y'all)
We comin' for your motherfuckin' chest
Y'all! (Chest, y'all)
We 'bout to lay you niggas down to rest
Y'all!
(Rest, y'all) , yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)

Ayo I hate your fuckin' guts and
I hope that you die!
Smackin any nigga talkin shit about Allah
Yeah! This that real rap BK to Bronx shit
P90 rueger with the full extended long clip
Bet a nigga let off any
Hammer that my palm rip
Got the loud growin in my
Yard on some farm shit (On some farm shit)
Try to front on Montana, Bus and Uncle Murda?
Get your mother hogtied and
Your uncle murdered

I don't give a fuck about
Shit put your guns up
Make 'em blackout I'm fuckin the clubs up
(Stick em up) You gettin robbed unless
You put your drugs up
Shots flyin sound like the DJ
Just turned your drums up
(What's up) Relax lil' nigga 'fore
You get fucked up or get your face swollen
And unbelievably scuffed up
You see I lock blocks and control avenues
Spazzin on the theme music for the animals

Yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
You know you niggas fuckin' with the best
Y'all! (Best, y'all)
We comin' for your motherfuckin' chest
Y'all! (Chest, y'all)
We 'bout to lay you niggas down to rest
Y'all!
(Rest, y'all) , yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
Yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)
You know you niggas fuckin' with the best
Y'all! (Best, y'all)
We comin' for your motherfuckin' chest
Y'all! (Chest, y'all)
We 'bout to lay you niggas down to rest
Y'all!
(Rest, y'all) , yes, yes, y'all! (Yes, y'all)