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letra de you already know - godhandusa

[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

- godhandusa

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