[Hook] Shake that body, party that bod Shake that body, party that bod Shake that body, party that body Come and have a good time with G.O.D
[Verse 1: Pusha T] I believe there's a God above me I'm just the god of everything else I put holes in everything else "New God Flow," fuck everything else Supreme dope dealer, write it in bold letters They love a nigga's spirit like Pac at the Coachella They said Pusha ain't fit with the umbrella But I was good with the Yay as a wholesaler I think it’s good that 'Ye got a blow dealer A hot temper, matched with a cold killer I came aboard for more than just to rhyme with him Think ’99, when Puff woulda had Shyne with him – yuugh! (Matching Daytonas, rose gold on us) Goin' H·A·M in Ibiza done took a toll on us (But since you over do it, I’mma pour more) Well if you goin' coupe, I’m goin' four door
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[Verse 2: Pusha T] Step on they necks 'til they can’t breathe Claim they five stars but sell you dreams They say death multiplies by threes Line them all up and let's just see Fuck em 'Ye, fuck em 'Ye! I wouldn't piss on that nigga with Grand Marnier (Woo!) They shitty shoppin' at Targét (Woo!) My shit is luxury Balmain (Ay!) I'm balling, Amar'e A nick sold in the park then I want in What's a king without a crown, nigga? What's a circus without you clown niggas? What's a brick from an outta-town nigga When you flood and you can drown niggas? Here's the G.O.O.D. Music golden child M.A. dollar sign, can't nobody hold me down
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[Verse 3: Kanye West] Hold up, I ain't trying to stunt, man But these Yeezys jumped over the Jumpman Went from most hated to the champion god flow I guess that's a feeling only me and Lebron know I'm living three dreams: Biggie Smalls', Dr. King's, Rodney King's Cause we can't get along, no resolution Till we drown all these haters, rest in peace to Whitney Houston Cars, money, girls and the clothes Aww man, you sold your soul Naww man, mad people was frontin' Aww man, made something from nothing Picture working so hard, and you can't cut through That can mess up your whole life, like an uncle that touched you What has the world come to, I'm from the 312 Where cops don't come through and dreams don't come true Like there the god go in his Murcielago From working McDonalds, barely paying the car note He even got enough to get his mama a condo Then they ran up and shot him right in front of his mom 40 killings in a weekend, 40 killings in a week Man the summer too hot you can feel it in the street Welcome to Sunday service if you hope to someday serve us We got green in our eyes, just follow my Erick Sermon Did Moses not part the water with the cane? Did strippers not make an ark when I made it rain? Did Yeezy not get signed by Hov and Dame? And ran to Jacob and made the new Jesus chains? In Jesus' name, let the choir say "I'm on fire, ay," that's what Richard Pryor say And we'll annihilate anybody that violate Ask any dope boy you know, they admire 'Ye
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[Verse 4: Ghostface] Ya nigga, y'all had my, I had my Jesus piece since ‘94 I don’t know what I, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout And my eagle — Still got it all in the bag, B All I did was play possum Yo, come on
Six hundred Cuban cigar in the big tub Medallion on, Dove soap on the fresh cut With soap suds on the Mac-11 My big lion haven’t ate since twelve And it’s after seven We feed the nigga like forty chickens His tail wag when I send him a bag with just one victim Uh-huh, now let me show you what my closet on Gems in the display case, call it a rock-a-thon I got soccer moms paying for cock Asia