[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 seranade 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
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, 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 (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 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)
