Released: July 31, 2019
Songwriter: Danny Caiazzo Toure Smith Ghostface Killah
[Intro]
Haha, yeah
Tony Stark, nigga
I ain't going nowhere (Yeah)
Y'all feel me?
We about to finish this al', dawg (Uh-huh)
Tell 'em, Tone Tone (It's the beginning)
Yo, yo, yo
Yo
[Verse 1]
The old lady said the shooter was 5'6"
And she don't know how he got away with five of them bricks
Across the street, a group of men held nine sticks
Those is choppers being sprayed, and all of em' missed, uh
Lil' bro got away with it
He promised me four of them joints if I stayed with him, uh
What the fuck y'all think?
I wasn't born with a slit between my legs with a hole that's pink?
Nah, I'm a gangster, besides getting paper
I move my pawns, fuck around and get rook
Besides that, any jux session
Deny me for any stones in your skin, you get cooked
Haha, blood spillin' like lava
Face on the hot concrete, no agua
Nasty killer with horror
You wasn't even the main entree, how's that for a starter?
[Chorus]
(Party over here)
I'm talking like it's about to get deadly, we stay getting ready
(Party over here)
Staten Island stay stylin', boy, turn off the lights like Teddy
(Party over here)
More paper, hoes that's swallowing 'scato on the late tip
(Party over here)
Don't you dare run, nigga, just hand over the goods, or we'll take it
[Verse 2]
Bottle after bottle, Remy dark, Goose, Moscato
Threw the club into gear full throttle
Players on one side, killers on the other
Hoes in the middle, plus it's jam-packed, flooded
Sweating through my silk, real life, I might tuck it
Mad hoes, got 'em on the string like a puppet
Party over here, lil' niggas stepped on my kicks without sayin' pardon over here
Two of my goons seen it, followed him over there
Came back with whatever that fuckboy had in his ear
Neck, chest, wrists, he couldn't persevere
Pat Riley on his neck, gave up the jewels like, "Here"
Nickel-plated bulldogs, 12-inch Rugers and long leathers
To pluck any bird nigga feather
Staten Island, we get ours regardless
Don't forget, we do the pressin', y'all just press charges
[Chorus]
(Party over here)
I'm talking like it's about to get deadly, we stay getting ready
(Party over here)
Staten Island stay stylin', boy, turn off the lights like Teddy
(Party over here)
More paper, hoes that's swallowing 'scato on the late tip
(Party over here)
Don't you dare run, nigga, just hand over the goods, or we'll take it
Haha, yeah
Tony Stark, nigga
I ain't going nowhere (Yeah)
Y'all feel me?
We about to finish this al', dawg (Uh-huh)
Tell 'em, Tone Tone (It's the beginning)
Yo, yo, yo
Yo
[Verse 1]
The old lady said the shooter was 5'6"
And she don't know how he got away with five of them bricks
Across the street, a group of men held nine sticks
Those is choppers being sprayed, and all of em' missed, uh
Lil' bro got away with it
He promised me four of them joints if I stayed with him, uh
What the fuck y'all think?
I wasn't born with a slit between my legs with a hole that's pink?
Nah, I'm a gangster, besides getting paper
I move my pawns, fuck around and get rook
Besides that, any jux session
Deny me for any stones in your skin, you get cooked
Haha, blood spillin' like lava
Face on the hot concrete, no agua
Nasty killer with horror
You wasn't even the main entree, how's that for a starter?
[Chorus]
(Party over here)
I'm talking like it's about to get deadly, we stay getting ready
(Party over here)
Staten Island stay stylin', boy, turn off the lights like Teddy
(Party over here)
More paper, hoes that's swallowing 'scato on the late tip
(Party over here)
Don't you dare run, nigga, just hand over the goods, or we'll take it
[Verse 2]
Bottle after bottle, Remy dark, Goose, Moscato
Threw the club into gear full throttle
Players on one side, killers on the other
Hoes in the middle, plus it's jam-packed, flooded
Sweating through my silk, real life, I might tuck it
Mad hoes, got 'em on the string like a puppet
Party over here, lil' niggas stepped on my kicks without sayin' pardon over here
Two of my goons seen it, followed him over there
Came back with whatever that fuckboy had in his ear
Neck, chest, wrists, he couldn't persevere
Pat Riley on his neck, gave up the jewels like, "Here"
Nickel-plated bulldogs, 12-inch Rugers and long leathers
To pluck any bird nigga feather
Staten Island, we get ours regardless
Don't forget, we do the pressin', y'all just press charges
[Chorus]
(Party over here)
I'm talking like it's about to get deadly, we stay getting ready
(Party over here)
Staten Island stay stylin', boy, turn off the lights like Teddy
(Party over here)
More paper, hoes that's swallowing 'scato on the late tip
(Party over here)
Don't you dare run, nigga, just hand over the goods, or we'll take it