J.R. Writer Lyrics

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Go Get It Lyrics

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Uh.. 1 2.. (Sup Mamii?)
Writer..(huhh?) Harlem.. Thunder.. (Fuck with me) Yeahh

JR WRITER:

Baby your aura crazy (crazy), I'm Talking Tasty (Hey)
New Beamer all it need now is a gorgeous lady (urrrrkk)
Lil diva, once I meet her, its for sure we're swazy ( what it do)
ON our way to La Marina like I joined the navy
Where the bottles at? ..the snotty little models at?
I'm tryna' to get you outta' here, so I can get inside'a that! (like..hey)
I'm a mac, on top of that, my pockets fat
I ain't got no time to nap, baby we insomniacs
I'm Vampin' till I make a billy (for what?)
But I'll take a milly (cha-ching)
Buncha' Cannons with me like I'm from the state of Philly (Plahw)
Really, (Plahw) really, I be really in the streets
Mommy know I been a beast, I don't tend to skip a Beat
Two clubs, one night, nothing but trouble
Just so I could stunt twice, I'ma stunt double
Yeah, I step up in and shout them welcome back
While we're stepping on the couch, is like a fucking welcome mat

Chorus:

You're about your paper, go get it
Match your cars to go with it
Right here Harlem We get it
custom kicks and bicthes that's with it
Rolex on your wrist, watch the flex on your bitch
Couple shots she throw it back
Now I'm on, she gone she hit it

See a rich nigga go get it!
Match your cars to go with it
Right here Harlem we get it
custom kicks and bicthes that's with it
Rolex on your wrist, watch the flex on your bitch
Couple shots she throw it back
Now I'm on, she gone she hit it

JIM JONES:

Had fall in love with cane, His name would be JIM
His team above the rim, my Jeans and my Timbs
I'm about to hit the jeweler, told him freeze up the limbs
And then i loose the roof, feel that breeze from the wind
She sure likin' this, put that 40 on her wrist
That bitch tell time, but it sure don't tick
Fuck that bitch one time, now she all on my dick
Fuck them bitches one time, got that 40 on the hip
So pardon me if I'm vain! Part of me is insane!
Part of me is still a part of Bs like arteries and veins
Part of me thats started V's and got audemars off cane
There's a part of me that got Ferarri V's and got cartiers off fame
Put My life on the camera, for you fuck boys to see
My wife bought a ghost, three hundred bucks for the V
So where you wanna go now? How you wanna go with it?
Till you starin' down the 4pound I could tell your wife you gon' go get it, bitch!

Chorus:

You're about your paper, go get it
Match your cars to go with it
Right here Harlem We get it
custom kicks and bicthes that's with it
Rolex on your wrist, watch the flex on your bitch
Couple shots she throw it back
Now I'm on, she gone she hit it

See a rich nigga go get it!
Match your cars to go with it
Right here Harlem we get it
custom kicks and bicthes that's with it
Rolex on your wrist, watch the flex on your bitch
Couple shots she throw it back
Now I'm on, she gone she hit it

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