Go Gettas - Statik Selektah, Wais P, Sean Price

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