About This Track
"Go Gettas" is a track by Statik Selektah, from the album 8, released 8th December 2017. Full lyrics are available below.
About the Artist
Lyrics
[Intro: Wais P] Ground Creepers (Let's creep!) Yeah, son of a! Come on! (Keep keeping on) [Verse 1: Wais P] Frozen face, look at my wrist, where the magic at? Pimp's spots just fucked up, it's where the ratchets at On the track is where it happened at, the Blade Bitches serenade my escapades outta Escalades Denalis and Range Rover, Highbridge My chain swinging in the hood, that bitch nigga got the hot heads Look at my iris, pupils bloodshot like a drunken Iris So fly, I'm doing shots with the pilot Thirty thousand feet reading 'bout the SkyMall 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, 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 Wais P the fucking pimp, truly yours [Chorus: Wais P] Bandana over the money stack Bitch get my paper, come and run it back (Run it back) Look at little shorty with the hundred pack (What) He got dreams of sipping lean in a Cadillac I 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 favorite letters (What) Guns under the seat, the life of a go getta, argh (Keep keepin on) [Verse 2: Sean Price] Grit, grimy tooth and nail Serve me, play the ukelele while I'm doing rails Bowl of escargot, oh I'm doing snails Used to sell crack, now I'm rapping, I'm doing well Hm, the best rapper out now Neck snappers get clapped and shout like Al P, I'm not your motherfucking friend fam Fuck the kee-kee, bo-bo and the flim flam I'm hot, creepers creep, the .4-4, I been bad Let's get physical, pull the pistol from my gym bag Haha, you deserve to have felons Carve up your face, straight Ferdinand Magellan Tuh, this that GMR shit Breathe these bars, you need CPR bitch The go-getta Sean Niggas know better, same low sweater on, P! [Chorus: Wais P] Bandana over the money stack Bitch get my paper, come and run it back (Run it back) Look at little shorty with the hundred pack (What) He got dreams of sipping lean in a Cadillac I 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 favorite letters (What) Guns under the seat, the life of a go getta, argh (Keep keepin on) [Verse 3: Tek] Uh, sing your songs of survival I tower over peons like the Eiffel Trifle, niggas, I make 'em starve Your fur's too short to cop from the god (Keepin on) No consignment, all C-O-D The price is the price, that's my T-A-G It gets better, if you cop heavy My OGs been slinging dope since Rocksteady Uh, I got the glow of the golden child Seasick, 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 Fifteen hundred for the Gucci attire If the bag is right, I'll make your hot shit fire (Smoke) [Chorus: Wais P] Bandana over the money stack Bitch get my paper, come and run it back (Run it back) Look at little shorty with the hundred pack (What) He got dreams of sipping lean in a Cadillac I 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 favorite letters (What) Guns under the seat, the life of a go getta, argh (Keep keepin on)
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