Lyrics Ghost - Dizzee Rascal, Bugzy Malone

Ghost

Close, close, wanna get close on the coast
Ghost, ghost don't pose and I don't post
Close, close, wanna get close on the coast
Ghost, ghost
Pickin' me a winner
Picky hair an' I was a little bit thinner
3310 with a customized ringer
I was tryna holla at Lavinia but she weren't ina
'Cos I was a sinner, thought I was a minger
Never had a Bimmer
Rollin' through the ends on a stolen Aprillia
Waiting for the Dominos guy to deliver for a free dinner
Thought I knew it all I was just a beginner, never was a singer
I was on pirate radio way before I heard Mike Skinner
Wagwan killer, yeah, that's my nigga
Talk about race but its just way bigger
I ain't gonna waste no time on Twitter
Done with the jibba, cry me a river
Say it to my face or say it to my trigger
You go figure, or reconsider, Indian giver
Lookin' for a chocolate girl with a hint of vanilla
And she can bring a Indian with her
I just want a bosom for a pillow
An' I got a little bit o' skrilla
We can get a boat and we can get a villa
Or we can be on South Beach real nigga liver
All killer, no filler
I don't wanna brag or boast
I don't cater and I don't host
When they ask what I do I say I do the most
Then I get ghost, on the coast like I am supposed
Don't pose and I do not post
And that's why these girls wanna try play me
Close, close, wanna get close on the coast
Ghost, ghost don't pose and I don't post
Close, close, wanna get close on the coast
Ghost, ghost
Ah, ghost
And I'm not talkin' about power
I was in HMP and I couldn't stop daydreaming about sweet and sour
I told them when I hit road this time, it's gonna rain and shower
I paint pictures with words like Vincent Van Gogh
When he painted the sunflower
Back when Dizzee made dreams, it was our age tryna make dreams come true
And in them things it would channel you
And I would roll deep with a pack of yutes
Weed and Rizla, pillar zoot
Drank cray like sizzla', that's the roots
Back then, man wore bubble coats into school and Timberland boots
Talkin' about back when man had the cowboy ting
And the middle bit would spin
And if you made it bang near anything metal
All you would hear was ping, ping
Ghost, made man look like nearly headless Nick
This one's gonna get messy like Lionel
Three way lops, that's a hat-trick
How are you a bad boy with no weapons
That's like Harry Potter with no broomstick
How are you a trap star with a knife
But then can forget there's 36 in a brick
Please don't glamorize jail like being on the wing makes you the Kidd
Ghost, that means in the background with a million quid
Close, close, wanna get close on the coast
Ghost, ghost don't pose and I don't post
Close, close, wanna get close on the coast
Ghost, ghost