Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Go Gettas, artist - Statik Selektah.
Date of issue: 07.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Go Gettas |
Groundkeepers., let’s creep |
Yeah |
Son of a |
Come on |
Frozen face look at my wrist |
Where the magic at |
Pimp’s frost just fucked up |
It’s where the ratchets at |
On the track is where it happened, at the Blade |
Bitches seranade my escapades outta Escalades |
The nannies and Range Rover, high prince |
Watch they swinging in the hood |
That bitch nigga got the hot heads |
Look at my iris |
Pupils bloodshot like a drunk Iris |
So far doing shots with the pilot |
30 000 feet reading 'bout the sky mall |
But all I want is the asian flight attendant on my balls |
Kaleidoscope diamonds, rollercoaster whips |
Soon as you hit the bar, I’m at your table |
Toasting with your bitch |
Shoulda bought a bottle and just take a loss |
Come around me with a hot head, I turn it into hot sauce |
Blow your brains out your skull nigga, memory loss |
Wise Peter, fucking pimp, truly yours |
Bandana over the money stack |
Bitch get my paper, coming running back (running back) |
Look at little shorty with the hundred pack |
He got dreams of sipping lean in the Cadillac |
Had to tell him, living life as a felon |
Ain’t all that it seemed to be |
It’s even better |
Pendants on your chain, diamonds in your favourite letters |
Guns under the seat, the life of a go getta |
Aargh, keep the door… |
Great grimy tooth and nail |
Serve me, play the ukelele while I’m doing rails |
Bowl of escargot, oh I’m doimg snails |
Used to sell crack, now I’m rapping and doing well |
The best rapper out now |
Next step is get capped and getting shot like Al-P |
I’m not your mother fucking friend fam |
Fuck the keeky keeky boom boom |
When the flim flam? |
I’m hot as creepers, creep the fho fho |
I been bad |
Let’s get physical, pull the pistol from my gym bag |
You deserve to have felons carving up your face |
Straight firm it down put gel in |
This that g.m.r shit |
Breathe these balls you need CPR bitch |
The go gettas Sean |
Niggas know better say low sweater on, (keep it on) |
Bandana over the money stack |
Bitch get my paper, coming running back (running back) |
Look at little shorty with the hundred pack |
He got dreams of sipping lean in the Cadillac |
Had to tell him, living life as a felon |
Ain’t all that it seemed to be |
It’s even better |
Pendants on your chain, diamonds in your favourite letters |
Guns under the seat, the life of a go getta |
Sing your songs of survival |
A tower, over peons like the Eiffel |
Triffle |
Niggas I make 'em starve |
Your fur’s too short to cop from the guard (keep it on) |
No consignment, all c.o.d, the price is the price |
That’s my t.a.g |
It gets better, if you’re cop heavy |
My old G’s been slinging dope since rocksteady |
Aaaaah, I got the glow of the golden child |
C sick, Queens, nigga should have been the poster child |
Get caught up in my current, y’all niggas ain’t swimmers |
It’s a major difference between me and beginners |
Competitive 6 thrower, the G-spots know me |
Your MCM call me big homie |
15 hundred for the Gucci attire |
If the bag is right I make your hot shit fire (smoke) |
Bandana over the money stack |
Bitch get my paper, coming running back (running back) |
Look at little shorty with the hundred pack |
He got dreams of sipping lean in the Cadillac |
Had to tell him, living life as a felon |
Ain’t all that it seemed to be |
It’s even better |
Pendants on your chain, diamonds in your favourite letters |
Guns under the seat, the life of a go getta |