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god's plan - busta rhymes lyrics

[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-gg-s 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 cl-ssic, add a chapter to the novel
pop a couple bottles, f-ck a couple models
rev it to the point where n-gg-s 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-gg-s saying “god d-mn!”
sh-t changed n-gg-, chain hang n-gg-
every time we drop, see how the sh-t bang n-gg-
we buzzing in the street until the sh-t sting n-gg-
we profit every time, that’s why we rich, lame n-gg-

[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 -ss
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-gg-, off the leash lil n-gg-
i just bought a car that you can’t even lease lil n-gg-
don’t reach lil n-gg-, just retreat lil n-gg-
cause you looking like a muhf-ckin’ feast lil n-gg-

[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 m-th-f-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-gg-s 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-gg- hood in them gts
no bloods, pirus, ccs
selling os, and i don’t mean cds
360 diamond chain, b-tterfinger bbs, yeah

[hook]

- busta rhymes lyrics

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