Godbody - Joey Purp, RZA

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