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you already know - godhandusa lyrics

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[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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