That Go Songtext
von Keak da Sneak
That Go Songtext
He just might go all the way
Goin goin, long gone
First, second, third, Home
Oakland, Athletic fit ballin
Four quarters, nine innings im as good as your last winner
Im grinnin, caught up in it doors open
Ghost ridin dope smokin when u come to oakland
Hold it down for the bay, yup its a rap
Run up in the spot, can runnnin with tremendo slap
Move to the Town, dont do nothin like warren sapp
Major blaps, discoverin on the map
We some pimps, grab a strap just like the cops
Young gun, eets ts ts sts sts ts ts ts blow
Open up shot, poppin my collar
Cut throat people change for the mighty dollar
If you fakin now you never been real, coward
Goin 60, runnin red lights and
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
I said lean wit it, rock, walk and pop lock
Get low, go, nigga, go dumb dont stop
Goin mayne dont let it
Knock it out like boxin and no sweatin
King of the. nah i aint gotta tell ya
Proof is in the put in, stop buyin dreams, we could sell ya
Matter of fact, dude built to last
Hit fast like cash before your ass even touch the grass
Haul, gas, 18 dumbalafa
Hyphy mixed with crunk call it criphy juice in our trunk
Ridin like there aint no tomorrow, blappin motor hot
Got em stuntin, shakin they dreads at the bus stop
Talk to me rat, holla, man get at me
Clean pimpin, let me suck and twist em grape in the fatty
Lean wit it, rock like the Franchise Boyz
No choir time, not listenin or makin noise
Young gun full of huh playin with the toys
Sukisa saki su, sum crazy boy
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit wet, then tell me no warnin
Battery fully charged, all night from this mornin
One in the house and anotherfor the car
Repped Tiger Woods beat 30 points and the par
Put an egg your shoe baby, get far
Dime piece brizzle, oh for shizzle, cater to a star
They still call me, Chef-Boy-R with a platinum jar
Doin all-nighters, grinnin, grindin on a chicc
Do it back wudz he went this nah that nigga went that way
Ba Ba Ba Ba Baayyy, man we do this eryday
Let that go, go somewhere wit all that
Take this shit from the tip-top to the way back
Raised in the Oakland City, I was born to mack
Pimp talk from my mouth, words on the track
I shoulda handled, bring my money back
Still shootin with cannon how u wanna act
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
Goin goin, long gone
First, second, third, Home
Oakland, Athletic fit ballin
Four quarters, nine innings im as good as your last winner
Im grinnin, caught up in it doors open
Ghost ridin dope smokin when u come to oakland
Hold it down for the bay, yup its a rap
Run up in the spot, can runnnin with tremendo slap
Move to the Town, dont do nothin like warren sapp
Major blaps, discoverin on the map
We some pimps, grab a strap just like the cops
Young gun, eets ts ts sts sts ts ts ts blow
Open up shot, poppin my collar
Cut throat people change for the mighty dollar
If you fakin now you never been real, coward
Goin 60, runnin red lights and
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
I said lean wit it, rock, walk and pop lock
Get low, go, nigga, go dumb dont stop
Goin mayne dont let it
Knock it out like boxin and no sweatin
King of the. nah i aint gotta tell ya
Proof is in the put in, stop buyin dreams, we could sell ya
Matter of fact, dude built to last
Hit fast like cash before your ass even touch the grass
Haul, gas, 18 dumbalafa
Hyphy mixed with crunk call it criphy juice in our trunk
Ridin like there aint no tomorrow, blappin motor hot
Got em stuntin, shakin they dreads at the bus stop
Talk to me rat, holla, man get at me
Clean pimpin, let me suck and twist em grape in the fatty
Lean wit it, rock like the Franchise Boyz
No choir time, not listenin or makin noise
Young gun full of huh playin with the toys
Sukisa saki su, sum crazy boy
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit wet, then tell me no warnin
Battery fully charged, all night from this mornin
One in the house and anotherfor the car
Repped Tiger Woods beat 30 points and the par
Put an egg your shoe baby, get far
Dime piece brizzle, oh for shizzle, cater to a star
They still call me, Chef-Boy-R with a platinum jar
Doin all-nighters, grinnin, grindin on a chicc
Do it back wudz he went this nah that nigga went that way
Ba Ba Ba Ba Baayyy, man we do this eryday
Let that go, go somewhere wit all that
Take this shit from the tip-top to the way back
Raised in the Oakland City, I was born to mack
Pimp talk from my mouth, words on the track
I shoulda handled, bring my money back
Still shootin with cannon how u wanna act
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
That shit go, that go, that go, that go
That go, that go, that go, that go
Writer(s): Charles Williams, Na Na Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com