HOP OFF THE PORCH (PROD. FONY WALLACE + JOSHBAE) by godhandusa

LYRICS:

GONDA:
IF YOU WANT, BITCH, YOU CAN GET IT
PROMISE THAT I KEEP EVERYTHING ‘ROUND ME COPACETIC
THESE RAPPERS COPYIN’ THE WAY WE DO IT, SO PATHETIC
THE ONLY THING I LEAVE YOU NEEDIN’ IS A PARAMEDIC

I POP OUT ON THE OPPS WITH THE CHOPPA, BROAD DAY
AND SEND ‘EM UP TO GOD FOR NO REASON BUT HE SAY
THE ONLY THING YOU GAIN IS SOME WEIGHT UP ON YO WAIST
I CANNOT WAIT, SECONDS TICKIN’ BY IS SUCH A WASTE
BITCH I’M OUTSIDE, SKIPPIN’ OUT THE FRONT DOOR, DIPPIN’ OUT THE BACK
WHEN I’M FINISHED BLOWIN’ OUT HER BACK LIKE A CHIROPRACTOR
I MAKE IT CRACK WHEN SHE CALLS ME
NIGGAS TALKIN’ SHIT, BUT STILL LIVIN’ WITH THEY MOMMY
OLD ENGLISH, I GOT THAT 40 OZ UPON ME
I GIVE ALL MY PRAISE TO THE EYE WHERE MY PALM ME
I NEVER PANIC, IF IT’S STATIC, ADDRESS IT CALMLY
BITCH, I’M FROM A CITY WHERE NIGGAS TURN INTO ZOMBIES
TAKE YOU TO THE TENDERLOIN, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD
WHERE THEY FLIPPIN’ CELLPHONES, JUNKIE HOES GIVIN’ HEAD TO TRICKS
HOPPIN’ OFF THE PORCH LIKE A RABBIT, NOT TALKIN’ TRIX
SERIAL NUMBER UP ON THE GUN IS SCRATCH AND SNIFF
I TOLD MY HOMIE TAKE THE STICKER OFF THE BACK OF YOUR WHIP
YOU SHOULDA CUT IT UP, BITCH
TOUCH A BRICK LIKE I DO CONSTRUCTION, THE GLOCK MAKE ‘EM DROP IT TO THE FLOOR
LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT FUNCTION

EVERYBODY WANNA BE RICH, EVERYBODY WANT FAME
EVERYBODY TRYIN’ TO ESCAPE THEY PAIN
LOOKIN’ UP AT GOD WHILE YOU BURN IN FLAMES
WHO DO YOU HAVE BUT YOURSELF TO BLAME?
BLACK, WHITE, BROWN, HOE WE ALL THE SAME
IF I WERE TO PASS, WOULD YOU SAY MY NAME?
IF I WERE TO DIE, WOULD YOU CARRY THE TORCH?
STAND UP MUTHAFUCKA, HOP OFF THE PORCH

MONGO:
HOPPIN’ OFF THE PORCH WHILE YOU ON THE BLOCK TRICKIN’
DOIN’ DIRT LIKE I’M DIGGIN’, ALWAYS GETTIN’ TO MY CHICKEN
MONGO WENT FROM 9 TO 5s BIPPIN’ ALL MY VICTIMS
TO A SKYRISE, I CAN SEE THE CITY WHERE I’M LIVIN’
I HAD TO DO THIS SHIT WITH GONDA
PUFFIN’ ON MY COMMAS, RIDIN’ ROUND IN THAT HONDA
STRONG MARIJUANA, THE ONLY THING THAT I’M FOND OF
I LIKE SOME BITCHES BLONDE, I LIKE SOME THAT LOOK LIKE OBAMA
STEPPIN’ IN THE PLAGUE, I AIN’T ROCKIN’ NO DAMN PRADA
PULL UP LOOKIN’ PROPER, I GET DOLLARS OFF MY PRODUCT
AND IF YOU WANT IT, YOU CAN GET IT MY DAWG
IF YOU CAN NAME IT, I PROMISE THAT I’M WITH IT MY DAWG
MIGHT GO BACK TO MY OLD WAYS AND HIT A LICK WITH MY DAWG
TALKIN’ SMACK, I PULL UP WIT A STICK WITH MY DAWG
THAT’S MY DAWG, THAT’S MY DAWG
I GET TO LICKIN’ MY PAWS, YOU APPALLED
IN YA BROAD, THAT’S WHERE I’M STICKIN’ MY BALLS
WE AIN’T THE SAME MUTHAFUCKA, YOU AIN’T WIT IT AT ALL
AND I CAN PUT YOU SIX FEET UNDER WITH NO FEELINGS INVOLVED
CUZ EVERYBODY WANNA FUCK WITH THE HAND
UNTIL THAT STICK GO BLICK, BLING, BLAOW AND YA MANS IN THE SAND
IT LOOK LIKE AFGHANISTAN WITH THE MAC IN MY HANDS
I PUT YA GANG IN A PAN, UNDERSTAND?

GONDA:
EVERYBODY WANNA BE RICH, EVERYBODY WANT FAME
EVERYBODY TRYIN’ TO ESCAPE THEY PAIN
LOOKIN’ UP AT GOD WHILE YOU BURN IN FLAMES
WHO DO YOU HAVE BUT YOURSELF TO BLAME?
BLACK, WHITE, BROWN, HOE WE ALL THE SAME
IF I WERE TO PASS, WOULD YOU SAY MY NAME?
IF I WERE TO DIE, WOULD YOU CARRY THE TORCH?
STAND UP MUTHAFUCKA, HOP OFF THE PORCH

IF YOU WANT, BITCH, YOU CAN GET IT
PROMISE THAT I KEEP EVERYTHING ‘ROUND ME COPACETIC
THESE RAPPERS COPYIN’ THE WAY WE DO IT, SO PATHETIC
THE ONLY THING I LEAVE YOU NEEDIN’ IS A PARAMEDIC
(x2)