Lyrics GTA (feat. Jah Floxks, Balenci & Saint Laurent Sour) - 22Gz feat. Balenci, Jah Floxks & Saint Laurent Sour

Ghosty

Gang, gang, gang
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Grrt
Bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah
Gang

I'm the collector (said that)
They ain't give me my credit, so I'm takin' extra (extra)
He on a stretcher (he on a)
Open his noggin, it's squirtin' like ketchup (ketchup)
Caught him at Checkers
Brodie gone line up for bands like Lester
I ain't no wrestler (gang, gang, gang)
Aimin' for brains, māthā fiesta (māthā)

Suffocate him, stuffin' his face in a zip rack (gang, gang, gang)
Tummy shot, they had to staple that shit back (skrrt-skrrt)
Treesh, she gone bend down, let me hit that
Flee, takin' no check, I'ma dig that (skrrt-skrrt-skrrt)
Opps out, shoot up the block with a four (grrah-grrah)
Baba strip from the top to your toes
Bend down we killed a opp in this hoe (gang, gang)
Backed out, he seen the chop and he froze

Youngest in charge
They say 22 the G.O.A.T. (skrrt-skrrt)
I got his treesh
Drivin' the boat
Aimin' for melons
Keep the blick in the coat (gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang)
Heard he got smacked
He don't want smoke (bah, bah, bah, bah, bah)

New drip (new drip)
Your fit where we empty them clips at
Cool kit (bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah)
We shot through his ribs and his six pack (gang, gang)

Big Rug' can fit in my pocket (big Rug')
Two shooters, same names, same noggins (same names)
Switch lanes, too famous for stoppin'
Swervin' through traffic, they lackin' we got 'em (got 'em)
Blue tips, green tips for the switch up
Chest shot, leg shot, can't get up
Stomach shot, gooey sauce, he gaspin'
Bullets gonna shatter his bone like a mirror

We spinnin' in threes, we can split up
Dumped in the trunk, leave him slumped in a river
.40 Cal with a stick for the stick up
Gloves on my hands and I'm not with the slip-ups (at all)
I got the keys (I got the keys)
Blue Ridge, Balenci', the locksmith
Masked up for deposits and flockings
Spot him, chop him, up get to dividin'

Been gettin' bands like Michael
Wear the wrong color on that block I'ma snipe you
Big knocks, homie won't fight you
Kill him in traffic and take the red light too (skrrt)
I ain't really worried, I be posted
30 the clip, bullets miss when I load it
I just might up it in public
Shoot at the witnesses, skip the discussions

Folks on a mission (Folk)
Chris in the cut he gonna shoot with precision
Up the passion, the flock and the Smith &
This car too hot, it's a risk if you in it
My shooter he get anti-social
Drum on the Glock and it's beatin' like Pro-Tools (flock, flock)
Play with my bread, I'ma toast you
Bustin' these plays and rememberin' socials

Soap Gang, flockin' Adidas
Do you got a Chevy? If not I don't need her
I got a vibe, a lil' treesha
I call up 22, "She comin' to eat up"
Treesh drink Henny by the liter
He called the stop, I call matha 'quafina
I got the streets from the Nina
She put this blick in her throat like a leaf

After she done gotta leave
I gotta pick up the drop for a D
Now shit can get sticky nigga with these Blixky niggas
If he runnin' we gon' flock him down
I can send Ramu to shoot him, he flockin' be warned
Don't stop 'til an opp on the ground (gang)

I'm the collector (said that)
They ain't give me my credit, so I'm takin' extra (extra)
He on a stretcher (he on a)
Open his noggin, it's squirtin' like ketchup (ketchup)
Caught him at Checkers
Brodie gone line up for bands like Lester
I ain't no wrestler (gang, gang, gang)
Aimin' for brains, māthā fiesta (māthā)

I'm the collector (said that)
They ain't give me my credit, so I'm takin' extra (extra)
He on a stretcher (he on a)
Open his noggin, it's squirtin' like ketchup (ketchup)
Caught him at Checkers
Brodie gone line up for bands like Lester
I ain't no wrestler (gang, gang, gang)
Aimin' for brains, māthā fiesta (māthā)

Gang, gang, gang
The Blixky, the Blixky, the Blixky

Ghosty