G.O.M.D. is a popular rap song by J. Cole from the 2014 album 2014 Forest Hills Drive. Check words to J. Cole G.O.M.D. Lyrics in English below.
G.O.M.D. Lyrics – J. Cole
[Produced by J. Cole]
[Directed by Lawrence Lamont]
[Intro]
Hollywood Cole, go
Ayy, Hollywood, ayy, Hollywood Cole, go
My nigga done went Hollywood
[Verse 1]
You wanna know just where I’m at? Well, let me tell you ’bout it
I put my city on the map, but let me tell you ’bout it
They tryna say I can’t come back, ayy, let me tell you ’bout it
Man, fuck them niggas, I come back, ayy, let me tell you ’bout it
I wanna tell you ’bout it: hands up, everybody run
Cole outside and he say he got a gun
Niggas like, “Man, that’s what everybody said”
Go and pop the trunk and now everybody dead
Everybody scared of the nigga, aware that the nigga is better
All my bitches the pick of the litter, never bitter
Niggas is fake, they anime
Me I never hate, get cake like Anna Mae, woah
Eat the cake bitch, eat the damn cake, uh
Fuck good, nigga, we demand great
Order Domino’s and she take off all her clothes
Nigga you know how it goes, make the pizza man wait
The best kept secret
Even Hov tried to keep it and I leaked the damn tape, uh
Rest in peace any nigga want beef
Secret service couldn’t keep the man safe
[Pre-Chorus]
I said, to the window, to the wall (To the wall)
My nigga ride when I call (I call)
Got bitches all in my mind (My mind)
Fuck nigga blockin’ my shine (My shine)
I know the reason you feel the way
I know just who you wan’ be
So everyday I thank the man upstairs
That I ain’t you and you ain’t me
[Chorus]
Get off my dick, woah
(Get the fuck off my dick)
Get off my dick, woah
(Get the fuck off my dick, nigga)
Get off my dick, bitch, woah
(Get the fuck off my dick)
Get off my dick, woah
[Bridge]
Man, fuck them niggas, I come home and I don’t tell nobody
They gettin’ temporary dough and I don’t tell nobody
Lord, will you tell me if I changed? I won’t tell nobody
I wanna go back to Jermaine, and I won’t tell nobody
[Interlude]
This is the part that the thugs skip!
[Verse 2]
Young nigga never had love
You know, foot massage, back rub shit
Blowin’ bubbles in the bathtub shit
That is until I met you
Together we done watch years go by
Seen a river of your tears go by
Got me thinkin’ ’bout some kids, still I
Tell them hoes come through, the break up
Get to know somebody and you really learn a lot about ’em
Won’t be long before you start to doubt ’em
Tell yourself you better off without ’em
Then in time you will find can’t walk without ’em
Can’t talk without ’em, can’t breathe without ’em
Came here together, you can’t leave without ’em
So you walk back in, make a scene about ’em
On your Amerie, it’s just 1 Thing about ’em
It’s called love, niggas don’t sing about it no more
Don’t nobody sing about it no more, no more
It’s called love, niggas don’t sing about it no more
Don’t nobody sing about it no more
(Nigga, I don’t sing about this shit no more)
But every nigga in the club singin’
[Pre-Chorus]
To the window, to the wall (To the wall)
My nigga ride when I call (I call)
Got bitches all in my mind (My mind)
Fuck nigga blockin’ my shine (My shine)
I know the reason you feel the way
I know just who you wan’ be
So everyday I thank the man upstairs
That I ain’t you and you ain’t me
[Bridge]
Get off my dick
But every nigga in the club singin’
Singin’ this song, yeah
Got all the bitches in the club singin’
Singin’ this song, yeah
And all they mamas let their kids sing it
Sing this song, yeah
The baby mamas and the mistresses
This song, yeah, song, yeah
Song, yeah, song-song, yeah
[Verse 3]
The make up
This shit is retarded, goddamn
Why every rich black nigga gotta be famous?
Why every broke black nigga gotta be brainless?
Uh, that’s a stereotype
Driven by some people up in Aerial Heights
Here’s a scenario:
Young Cole pockets is fat like Lil Terrio
Dreamville, give us a year we’ll be on every show
Yeah, fuck nigga, I’m very sure, heh
Fuck the rest, I’m the best nigga out
When I’m back home, I’m the best in the South
When I’m in L.A., I’m the best in the West
You contest? You can test, I’ma stretch niggas out
Ooh, I’ma stretch niggas out
That go for all y’all if I left niggas out
This shit for everybody on my testicles
Please make sure you put the rest in your mouth, ho
Writer(s): Jermaine Cole, Johnny Taylor, Ludwig Göransson