Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Godbody, artist - Joey Purp. Album song QUARTERTHING, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 12.09.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Godbody |
| Them niggas selling to them undercovers |
| That’s uncool like your mother’s brother |
| Make my bitches touch each other |
| My niggas caught cases, all we known for pie shaving |
| All my plugs is Caucasian, smoke until my eyes Asian |
| Send a batch of beats, I send you back a masterpiece |
| Might buy a chain that look like it was made for Master P |
| I’m in the dojo where the masters meet, talk is cheap |
| Whispers in the congregation, watch the pastor preach |
| Been a problem, now I’m more focused |
| That Maserati pull up, make your Bimmer look like it’s a Ford Focus |
| In the retail, hard to explain the details |
| Thousand-dollar deposit sitting on dope and emails |
| Tim Allen, how kids gripping tools |
| Different 12 like I’m in Air Maxes, I get up out my Yeezy Boosts |
| My Watanabe circa Season 2 |
| Muhammad with the stick and move, the Godbody only speak the truth |
| I’m popping like Polo tags in '98 |
| Six shipments, six addresses, I charge 'em to the game |
| Double-cup sipping, paint dripping off the Caddy frame |
| Two-tone whip change colors, I call it Charlamagne |
| Kill for your brothers, if they do the same |
| Switch cities, switch phone numbers, but we move the same |
| Switch bitches, switch locations, and watch these niggas change |
| There is not a stain on my Forces, but it’s a dirty game |
| Yeah, and the nerve of you motherfuckers |
| The nerve of you motherfuckers think that you can touch me |
| Your ass ain’t fast enough to touch me |
| The one and only, ha |
| Godbody |
| And it’s gon' go down |
| And when it goes down, everybody just gon' be looking |
| Standing there, looking around |
| Standing there, looking at each other |
| Tryna figure out who did it |
| Don’t nobody know who did it |
| Don’t nobody know who did it |
| All they know is what happened (Ugh, yeah) |
| GODBODY! |
| You niggas selling to them plain clotheses |
| While I play the corner, chain-smoking |
| Booming out they veins and noses |
| I’m paper-stacking 'til the winter’s over |
| Trying to pull up in that Cherry Rover, seats the color baking soda |
| Wood grain resemble shaken soda |
| Apply the pressure to the next or opposition when my paces over |
| Snotty tissues with that Ray Liotta |
| You paper soldiers couldn’t take a step inside these Purple Label loafers |
| I’m popping like Gucci buckets and white tees |
| Six shipments, six addresses, I paid the shipping fees |
| Double-cup, sipping lean, dripping off a Swisher Sweet |
| Two-tone, yellow and rosegold like Mr. T |
| I’m good with that yay like Mike Dean |
| Killers turn police for that break like Ice-T |
| Desperate niggas turn on they own people—Spike Lee |
| Shivers when he preach, the Godbody got the truth to speak |