lirik lagu godhandusa - chicken in the crock pot
[intro]
you are now listening to…
the smooth sounds of 77.7 hand of god fm…
[verse 1: mongo]
mongo in the hood, outside, wish you would
cookin’ beats, grillin’ dogs on the block (what’s good)
i be chillin’ in that parkin’ lot, blowin’ down woods
real g, b~tch you know i keep glock (what’s good)
that’s that second amendment
f~ck i look like, ballin’ on some presents for peasants?
only feed my fam, count bills, presence ascended
just gotta let me know, shippin’ in the pack, i’ma send it
i’ma freak in the motherf~ckin’ sheets
never stop goin’ in till completion, [?]
[?] drill, like the tracks
if i never get a plaque, still stacked, i’m the reason
motherf~ckas’ even wanna rap, no lie
m~o~n~g~o, soakin’ in the sunshine
g~g~g~o~d~h~a~n~d, i can tell you blind asleep
keep it motherf~ckin’ poppin’, seven nights a week
[chorus: gonda]
put yo’ hands in the air, like 12 pulled up
on the block with the homies, f~ck the cops
shawty make it drop to the flo’ with them apple bottom jeans on
what’s crackin’ like some pop rocks?
mama got the chicken in the crock pot, cookin’ it slow
till it fall off the bone, say what?
yeah, we in the neighborhood, we poppin’ bottles in the front yard
come and grab a motherf~ckin’ cup, and say, “what’s up?”
[verse 2: gonda]
b~b~b~tch i’m on my scr~per bike, cruisin’
the way the rims spinnin’ and movin’, it’s confusin’
w~w~women love the way i keep it a buck
watchin’ b~tches start runnin’ like squirrels for my nuts
a~a~a~and she got the cupcakes in the pants
bad b~tch, on the dance flo’, doin’ a dance
i~i~i walk up, i said “do you got a man?”
she said, “yeah, i do! but i’m just here with my friends!” (what’s good)
shawty, tell me what’s good
i got half a mind to take you right back to the hood
introduce you to my mom’s, and my pop’s, and my friends
i might even put a f~ckin’ ring on yo’ hand, on god!
you a~you~you a fine lil’ thang
you can hold a strap while we ride around with the gang, let it bang
th~th~throw it in yo’ purse if they search it
shawty got the glock in a bootleg birkin
[chorus: gonda]
put yo’ hands in the air, like 12 pulled up
on the block with the homies, f~ck the cops
shawty make it drop to the flo’ with them apple bottom jeans on
what’s crackin’ like some pop rocks?
mama got the chicken in the crock pot, cookin’ it slow
till it fall off the bone, say what?
yeah, we in the neighborhood, we poppin’ bottles in the front yard
come and grab a motherf~ckin’ cup, and say, “what’s up?”
[outro]
is it like the hand of god?
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