Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song What Can We Do (Parts 1 & 2) , by - Statik Selektah. Release date: 07.12.2017
Song language: English
What Can We Do (Parts 1 & 2) |
| Come on guys, improvise man |
| What can we do for you? |
| Statik Selektah |
| I know he stab you in the air when he speak |
| So why you frontin' like your shit ain’t leak |
| When it sounded like I make cure-a-tea |
| The other side of the same one-way street |
| Said I’m the best what? |
| The fucking necks up |
| Like airplane sleep and I’m taking off |
| Like the national anthem and wearing hats |
| And to the hearts no mirror matching |
| To a pigeon a terror act |
| You fear the fact, a fan dressed in all black |
| Ms. Mary met bottle service |
| What I bring to the table got flavoured tag |
| Just aim to catch it, from here on stop it |
| See the fear on ya' shit |
| Face looking like a three-pronged socket, electro fire |
| My desert the whip stand |
| You holding the hourglass while sinking in quicksand |
| I did you dirty like old bad boots, scuffles and slack box |
| And clap topping with a foot in the door |
| Seen it sasquatching |
| I found myself in my reflection. |
| I’m back |
| Watching Billy faded off and looking in mirrors |
| I’m hat shopping |
| You can see the Alibaba shows |
| Surprising this Lady Gaga and some dyed out clothes |
| And ta da I revitalize they idolise my flow |
| And they shit be sounding like they reading wifi codes |
| And voila, every vocal is just important as there |
| Half and half is getting to listen, other’s hoping they care, yeah |
| My true colour and temperature vision thermal delivery making |
| The push less painful like epidural |
| Well what can we do for you? |
| Well, well, I’m just cut from a different cloth |
| Shitty snort made him look like Mickey Rourke in the face |
| We just want paper plates, meetings with paper planes |
| But I keep having nightmares word to Dana Dane |
| I heard the misericordia let me splash the water |
| Achieve the white salami, autograph your daughter |
| She just wanna make some IG videos |
| I just wanna be mentioned amongst the billy goats |
| Snoopy and Charlie Brown on me a silly coat |
| Hooter coming right back bitch no Arsenio |
| Drop a few papooses on Crestview, wet fumes |
| A bunch of graduates from out the wreck room |
| All say my shit the stupidest but ain’t no guarantees |
| With this music shit |
| My primo dope m. |
| o's the fifth along with Ludacris |
| Primo manteca mon amor frozen |
| Tis atrocious method I add that I’m like a swarm of locusts |
| Well what can we do for you? |
| Yo, This morning I woke up and scratched the numbers off |
| I need at least a mill by next year |
| I’m giving the plug a call |
| A lot of slow leaks in your circle, when I can plug 'em all |
| When ya’ll was getting rich off the purple shit |
| I was cutting hard |
| I ain’t never lied on a verse |
| I wound up being dead broke when |
| You’re alive to choose dying is worse |
| I made real niggas cry with my words |
| Shit I might hit styles for a verse |
| Reporting live from the curb |
| I reside where niggas run on the 1st and on the 15th |
| And if your name good then niggas slide you work |
| I got one goal and that is to bring it back to my era |
| The good karma’s, more commas like grammatical errors |
| I don’t get caught up in the chatter |
| I just laugh and do better |
| For Statik a potato on a barrel for whoever |
| Even in the summer my sterling is dragging the pavement |
| And I got hammers in the attic blowing weed in the basement |
| We ain’t dig in the safe for a while |
| Pop told me if I wanna make it work so we gon' take it to trial |
| I’ll be damned if I slip up now, no celebrating prematurely |
| Because I can’t afford no hiccups now |
| I’m off seasoning the cord that I cut through |
| And when them partners telling you they straight |
| Nigga guess who they come to |
| Started taking shit several years to look what we come to |
| There’s a lotta things that I can’t undo but we here now |
| Hey yo this Ap |
| La, la, la, la, la, la, la |
| What can we do for you? |
| Yeah, Statik Selektah |
| Young nigga living, jury had feds watching me |
| Trying to war with the king, niggas don’t think logically |
| At any moment God reward me for my modesty |
| Killers dump the body leave you stinking like rotting meat |
| Blasting, smoother than Billy Dee in Mahogany |
| Fashion, model figures disown a wannabe |
| Bragging about the days when you was a shooter |
| When you run into some real ones they want you to prove it |
| How could I trust you? |
| Don’t even trust the ones I grew with |
| Niggas stupid, catching bodies then youtube 'em |
| Just to hang boy you tie your own nooses |
| I can see the state in your eye while throwing deuces, yeah |
| No soul reflect on my best years |
| It’s the flow forever, gonna stress peers |
| Please, I’m the dopest you never heard |
| Like a crack fiend’s screams, falling on deaf ears |
| Yeah, so ferocious, flow is potent, yeah |
| Hit the pussy then I hocus pocus |
| Pray my karma don’t curve back like scoliosis |
| If niggas don’t know how to play it throw it to Kobe |
| I gotta let you know though |
| Feel like James Evans in the hood with the flow though |
| Started with a band, made my money solo |
| You could be standing by your killer in these photos, damn nigga |
| What can I do for y’all? |
| My kind of music is embalming fluid |
| I’m prime influencing |
| It ain’t that hard to tell that I been through it |
| Crazy back then even my momma knew |
| Kinda foolish, quick to crash out like Osama fluid |
| I repeated the Taoist and wear a life I really feel |
| I really feel like I’m tommy empowered |
| Not to mention that I’m co-signed by Tommy on Power |
| So when my stars align I’mma shine on you cowards, look |
| Like really, how i’m 'posed to relate? |
| To these artificial artists I been knowing their fate |
| Monkeying round you could get a hold of your date |
| Mr flow-to-drown-rappers, stat, show them the lake, splash |
| Air bubbles from the gasp |
| Air bubbles in my sneakers, writing Brody in the max |
| Biggie in the speakers when I’m opening the pack |
| Mike sold him my apartment because we both was in the trap |
| Hmmm, i’m headed down to Lollapalooza the car with |
| The shooter will probably make you swallow a Ruger |
| How 'bout a Uber and bust you for an awkward manouver |
| I stomp on the tune then dip into the jar with the budha |
| It’s smelly |
| Well what can we do for you? |
| Nothing but I’m gifted like stork visits |
| Flip birds like caught pigeons |
| I’m couped and it’s off limits |
| My material can buy these Timbs in New York fitted |
| It’s my pedigree raised by the pounds that I brought with me |
| Hoid up, got the polar, damn flow no one colder |
| Heir to the throne or colder |
| Bad to the bone like arthi-ritis and |
| Auto-write it on auto-pilot |
| And caught pics where your daughter ride it |
| I’m so excited |
| No x’s in site just o’s and commas |
| So know the drama |
| Deep like penmanships and ocean’s harbour |
| Ain’t Will Smith then hold the llama |
| For all who brought the drama |
| This ain’t Broadway mama |
| Me I been m.i.a to the bullshit |
| My demons straight, I could demonstrate what the truth is |
| Been roofless since I was ruthless we been on property’s roof |
| It’s just dogs barking up trees with the nooses |
| And new since the new kids, I’m the back of the movment |
| And proof that a root gives fingertips on the groove this |
| So who-dissed-that-nigga-that-you-been-sleeping-on |
| My temper peak, you never see I’m like a see-saw |
| We the law if you can follow the words |
| Just keep your ears to the streets |
| Or you might swallow the curb, the concrete though |
| Can’t steal and my my arms swing low |
| Sweeping bitches off of they feet |
| The Bronx hero is ready |
| What can we do for you? |
| There’s nothing like sitting at home, let me tell you that |
| Well what can we do for you? |