G.O.M.D — J. Cole: letras e videoclipes das músicas e shows

G.O.M.D

1.341.456

Hip-Hop/Rap

G.O.M.D foi lançado em 9 de dezembro de 2014 por Roc Nation Records LLC como parte do álbum 2014 Forest Hills Drive

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Últimos 7 dias

00:00 - 00:05

G.O.M.D foi descoberta com mais frequência nos primeiros segundos de música durante a semana passada

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05:01

RESUMO

LETRA

Vídeo da música

Vídeo da música

Créditos

INTERPRETAÇÃO

J. Cole

Vocais

Ronald Gilmore

Teclados

COMPOSIÇÃO E LETRA

J. Cole

Composição

Ron Gilmore

Composição

Dwight Andrews

Composição

Deongelo Holmes

Deongelo Holmes

Composição

Eric Jackson

Composição

Jonathan Smith

Composição

PRODUÇÃO E ENGENHARIA

J. Cole

Produção

Juro "Mez" Davis

Juro "Mez" Davis

Engenharia (mixagem)

Dreamville

Produção executiva

Mark Pitts

Produção executiva

Roc Nation

Produção executiva

Brian Gardner

Engenharia (masterização)

Jack Mason

Engenharia (assistente)

Nathaniel Alford

Nathaniel Alford

Engenharia (gravação)

Letra

[Intro]

Hollywood Cole

Go

Aye, Hollywood, aye, Hollywood Cole

Go

[Verse 1]

You wanna know just where I'm at, well, lemme tell you 'bout it

I put my city on the map, but lemme tell you 'bout it

They try to say I can't come back, hey, lemme tell you 'bout it

Man, fuck them ****, I come back, hey, lemme tell you 'bout it

I wanna tell you 'bout it

Hands up, everybody run

Cole outside and he say he got a gun

**** like, man, that's what everybody said

Go and pop the trunk, and now, everybody dead

Everybody scared of the ****, aware that the **** is better

All my bitches is pick of the litter, never bitter

**** is fake, they anime

Me, I never hate, get cake like Anna Mae, whoa

Eat the cake, bitch, eat the damn cake, uh

Fuck good, ****, we demand great

Order Domino's then she take off all her clothes

****, you know how it go, make the pizza man wait

The best-kept secret, even Hov try to keep it, then I leak the damn tape, uh

Rest in peace, any **** want beef

Secret service couldn't keep the man safe

[Refrain]

I said to the window, to the wall (To the wall)

My **** ride when I call (I call)

Got bitches all in my mind (My mind)

Fuck **** blockin' my shine (My shine)

I know the reason you feel the way

I know just who you wan' be

So every day, I thank the man upstairs

That I ain't you, and you ain't me

[Chorus]

Get off my dick, whoa (Get the fuck off my dick)

Get off my dick, whoa (Get the fuck off my dick, ****)

Get off my dick, whoa (Bitch, get the fuck off my dick)

Get off my dick, whoa

[Bridge]

Man, fuck them ****, 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

This is the part that the thugs skip

[Verse 2]

Young **** never had love

You know, foot massage, backrub shit

Blowin' bubbles in the bathtub shit

That is, until I met you

Together, we done watched 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 breakup

Get to know somebody and you really learn a lot about 'em

Won't be long 'fore you start to doubt 'em

Tell yourself you're 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 one thing about 'em, it's called love

**** don't sing about it no mo'

Don't nobody sing about it no mo'

No mo'

It's called love

**** don't sing about it no mo'

Don't nobody sing about it no mo'

But every **** in the club singin'

[Refrain]

To the window, to the wall (To the wall)

My **** ride when I call (I call)

Got bitches all in my mind (My mind)

Fuck **** blockin' my shine (My shine)

I know the reason you feel the way

I know just who you wan' be

So every day, I thank the man upstairs

That I ain't you, and you ain't me

Get off my dick

[Bridge]

But every **** in the club singin' (Singin' this song, yeah)

Got all the bitches in the club singin' (Singin' this song, yeah)

And all the mamas let they kids sing it (Sing this song, yeah)

The baby mamas and the mistresses (This song, yeah)

Song, yeah

Song, yeah

So-song, yeah

[Verse 3]

The makeup

This shit is retarded, goddamn

Why every rich Black **** gotta be famous?

Why every broke Black **** gotta be brainless?

Uh, that's a stereotype

Driven by some people up in Ariel 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 ****, I'm very sure

Huh, fuck the rest, I'm the best **** 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 **** out

Ooh, I'ma stretch **** out

That go for all y'all if I left **** out

This shit for everybody on my testicle

Please make sure you put the rest in your mouth, ho

Written by: Deongelo Holmes, Dwight Andrews, Eric Jackson, J. Cole, Jonathan Smith, Ron Gilmore

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