lirik lagu godhandusa - you already know
[intro: gonda]
b~tch
ahaha!
it’s godhand back in this b~tch
gonda, mongo, and fony wallace
here to f~ck up your eardrums, you hear me?
godhand
[chorus: mongo]
stack my bread, count my dough
buster, you already know
g~o~d on yo’ screen, servin’ all these godd~mn fiends
count my chips, f~ck my b~tch
tryna’ get all my partners rich
g~o~d on yo’ phone, who the f~ck you trippin’ on?
[verse 1: mongo]
(aye)
who the f~ck you trippin’ on?
mongo
sfz, get to pimpin’ on
come to the city, hoe
look at what i’m sippin’ on
every time yo’ b~tch in the area, she hit the phone (she hit the phone)
(aye)
i~i~i been on the grip the pole
hit her in the spot without a word, that’s a rookie goal
i~i~i~it’s the hand that she want in her p~ssy hole
yeah~yeah~yeah, i heard that you was poppin’, but i could be wrong
prolly am
(aye)
mongo off the fizz, ain’t no molly b~tch
twirl and he drop, and yo’ bodied b~tch, obvious
everybody and they dirty mama tryna’ copy this
now i’m out for blood and your plot lookin’ the oppiest (boom)
(aye)
w~w~w~what’s the word, get ’em backed out
rollin’ through the burbs with my strap out
feel like a marine~ine~green beam colorize your spleen, hoe
g~o~d~h~a~n~d the team, hoe (boom)
(aye)
[chorus: mongo]
stack my bread, count my dough
buster, you already know
g~o~d on yo’ screen, servin’ all these godd~mn fiends
count my chips, f~ck my b~tch
tryna’ get all my partners rich
g~o~d on yo’ phone, who the f~ck you trippin’ on?
[verse 2: gonda]
who~who
who~who~who the f~ck you trippin’ on?
5~6~2 to the 9~1~6, big sticks, tough
in my true religion, f~ckin’ women, sellin’ dope
i been sinnin’ but i know that god got my back though (boom)
i just nutted in yo’ b~tch and just ran out the back door
she said “gonda, i love you, my man is not enough”
f~ckin’ white, yellow, tan, brown, and them black hoes
don’t discriminate when i impregnate, i knock ’em up
(aye)
i’m a real player, f~ck a naysayer
michael to the bay, then la later
(aye)
tell the waiter i need cheddar cheese, screw the provolone, i’m in the trap house like every day, this sh~t like home alone
ain’t tryna’ talk unless i see you, ’cause the police on the phone
this hennessey like hamas missiles, take that sh~t right to the dome
she got that tempur pedic mattress, i might just rip the foam
you talkin’ stupid, grab my belt b~tch
who the f~ck you trippin’ on?
[chorus: mongo]
stack my bread, count my dough
buster, you already know
g~o~d on yo’ screen, servin’ all these godd~mn fiends
count my chips, f~ck my b~tch
tryna’ get all my partners rich
g~o~d on yo’ phone, who the f~ck you trippin’ on?
[outro: gonda]
yeah
who the f~ck you trippin’ on, dumbass?
it’s g~o~d~h~a~n~d
godhand
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