God’s Plan lyrics

by

Sean Paul


[Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]
Step up in the spot, sizzle it to death
Always leave a mark like when the metal hit your flesh
Blessed muhf*cka, everything about me fresh
Every time we do this sh*t, we doing it to death
We getting money too, this sh*t don't make no kinda sense
(Pop!) Make 'em run until they hop another fence
When I'm in the building, n*ggas know I always got 'em and
The way we keep on winning, how the f*ck you gon' stop' em?
b*tch my money long, thicker than a waffle
Y'all know how we do it, everything colossal
Thirty karat diamond pinky ring look like a marble
I don't mean to startle, making b*tches argue
Put it in your mouth, stop the yapping, and gargle
Take over the whole sh*t, never do it partial
f*cking up the building till they call a fire marshal
Drop another classic, add a chapter to the novel
Pop a couple bottles, f*ck a couple models
Rev it to the point where n*ggas bust open the throttle
You think you got a pot of gold? Got a couple potfuls
Could give a f*ck about your shine, b*tch I got a watch full

[Hook: Busta Rhymes]
Them boys hot b*tch, aw man
Make sure the penthouse suite got a ceiling fan
See, when I win, it's like it's God's plan
And when they see it, got these n*ggas saying "God damn!"
sh*t changed n*gga, chain hang n*gga
Every time we drop, see how the sh*t bang n*gga
We buzzing in the street until the sh*t sting n*gga
We profit every time, that's why we rich, lame n*gga
[Verse 2: J-Doe]
I'm bout my paper, I'm bout my dough
I keep my watch face twenty below
b*tch it's only three things you need to know
All three is "Can't no one f*ck with J-Doe", aye
I'm getting moolah, I'm getting cash
If I say "hi" to her, she give up ass
I got a Ruger, don't make me blast
My flow is too hot, why y'all listening to trash?
Aw yeah, I'm a beast lil n*gga, off the leash lil n*gga
I just bought a car that you can't even lease lil n*gga
Don't reach lil n*gga, just retreat lil n*gga
Cause you looking like a muhf*ckin' feast lil n*gga

[Hook]

[Verse 3: O.T. Genasis]
Aye, okay, wrist look Rollie, charm look trophy
Top three rappers: O.T., O.T., and O.T
.45 on me so my shirt look pokey
Buss that muthaf*cka till that barrel get smoky
Diamonds Tropicana, got a bag like I am Santa
It's like 50 b*tches wit' me and they all in my cabana
From the West Coast where these n*ggas throw they sets and wave bandanas
If that's at your neighborhood, you will go nail down from the hammers, I
Ride through any n*gga hood in them GTs
No Bloods, Pirus, CCs
Selling Os, and I don't mean CDs
360 diamond chain, Butterfinger BBs, yeah
[Hook]
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