Lyrics Go Gettas - Statik Selektah, Wais P, Sean Price

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