| Shake that body, party that bar!
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| Shake that body, party that bar!
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| Shake that body, party that bar!
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| Come and have a good time with G.O.D!
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| I believe there is a god above me
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| I’m just the god of everything else
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| I put holes in everything else
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| «New God Flow,"fuck everything else
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| Supreme dope dealer, write it in bold letters
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| They love a nigga’s spirit like Pac at the Coachella
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| They said Pusha ain’t fit with the umbrella
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| But I was good with the Yay as a wholesaler
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| I think it’s good that Ye got a blow dealer
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| A hot temper, matched wth a cold killer
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| I came aboard for more than just to rhyme with him
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| Think '99, when Puff woulda had Shyne with him
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| (Matching Daytonas, rose gold on us)
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| Going ham in Ibiza done took a toll on us
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| (But since you over do it, I’mma pour more)
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| Well if you go coupe, I’m going four door
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| Step on their necks until they can’t breath
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| Claim they five stars but sell you dreams
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| They say death multiplies by threes
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| Line them all up and let’s just see
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| Fuck em 'Ye. |
| Fuck em 'Ye!
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| I wouldn’t piss on that nigga with Grand Marnier
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| (Woo!) They shitty shoppin' at Tar-gét
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| (Woo!) My shit is luxury Balmain (Ay!)
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| Im ballin', Amar’e
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| A nick sold in the park then I want in
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| What’s a king without a crown, nigga?
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| What’s a circus without you clown niggas?
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| What’s a brick from an outta-town nigga
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| When you flood and you can drown niggas?
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| Here’s the G.O.O.D. |
| Music golden child
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| M.A. dollar sign, can’t nobody hold me down
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| Now hold up, I ain’t trying to stunt, man
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| But these Yeezys jumped over the Jumpman
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| Went from most hated to the champion god flow
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| I guess that’s a feeling only me and Lebron know
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| I’m living three dreams:
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| Biggie Smalls', Dr. King’s, Rodney King’s
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| Cuz we can’t get along, no resolution
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| Till we drown all these haters, rest in peace to Whitney Houston
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| Cars, money, girls and the clothes
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| Aww man, you sold your soul
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| Naww man, mad people was frontin'
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| Aww man, made something from nothing
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| Picture working so hard, and you can’t cut through
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| That can mess up your whole life, like an uncle that touched you
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| What has the world come to, I’m from the 312
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| Where cops don’t come through and dreams don’t come true
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| Like there the god go in his Murcielago
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| Went from working McDonalds, barely paying the car note
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| Even got enough to get his mama a condo
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| Then they ran up and shot him right front of his mom
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| 40 killings in a weekend, 40 killings in a week
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| Man the summer too hot you can feel it in the street
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| Welcome to Sunday service if you hope to someday serve us
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| I got green in my eyes, just follow my Erick Sermon
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| Did Moses not part the water with the cane?
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| Did strippers not make an ark when I made it rain?
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| Did Yeezy not get signed by Hov and Dame?
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| And ran to Jacob and made the new Jesus chains?
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| In Jesus name, let the choir say
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| «I'm on fire ay,"that's what Richard Pryor say
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| And we annihilate anybody that violate
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| Ask any dope boy you know, they admire 'Ye
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| G.O.O.D. |
| Music! |
| G.O.O.D. |
| Music!
|
| G.O.O.D. |
| Music! |
| G.O.O.D. |
| Music!
|
| And all my niggas say «G.O.O.D. |
| Music!»
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| And all my ladies say «G.O.O.D. |
| Music!»
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| I don’t know but I’ve been told
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| (I don’t know but I’ve been told)
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| If you get fresh get all the hoes
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| (If you get fresh get all the hoes)
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| I’m way fresher than all my foes
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| (I'm way fresher than all my foes)
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| Somebody please pick out they clothes
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| (Somebody please pick out they clothes)
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| And all my niggas say «G.O.O.D. |
| Music!»
|
| And all my ladies say «G.O.O.D. |
| Music!»
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| Who runnin' shit today? |
| G.O.O.D. |
| Music!
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| Who runnin' shit today? |
| G.O.O.D. |
| Music! |