“If you don’t listen to god hand 🪬 we don’t fuck with u”

Copy of IGNORANCE IS BLISS (THE MIXTAPE)

thank u @issbrokie & @christdillinger

** you feel an ominous presence approaching **

SWAG MODE 1 BILLION FT. ISSBROKIE + CHRIST DILLINGER [prod gort]

BUTTERED SAUSAGE [prod gort]

lyric
its been a minute since i got up out the crib
you talkin to me i said tell me what it is
i need a rack for every word that imma spit
im from the 619 like pussy boy lets get it in

out the mouth bitch i spit straight ism
when i shoot bitch its all precision
aim for the eyes like you got no vision
why you pussies stuck in place you mentally imprisoned

i done had 5 meals he still lookin out for dinner
ive been drinkin so damn much i think im fuckin up my liver
if that bitch gon try to cross me the you know i wont forgive her
i need my girl just like some money bitch i need a nice figure

one more time im a natural born sinner
i aint supplyin any hand outs pussy boy this aint the giver
when i walk up in the room i tend to make em all go shiver
so much tree up in the blunt like when i smoke it they yell timber

my sauce get lost this my cause
too frost riposte like i fight gods
all my energy i know they tryna siphon
when i hop up on the verse youd think its my song
fine nods from the bitties who gon bite rocks time bomb everytime i speak i dont have no flaws
eyes off i can see without the lights on tyson swinging both my fist i make em respawn

i could tell that ur a bitch when i first met you
leave that boy two face zangetsu
bitch i pop another bean like a sensu
the way they talking shit up on the boy i think the rents due

you be complaining bout your life you swear it isnt your fault
i go an hour without smoking im already having withdrawals
i got two bitches jumpin at me like we have a tip off
like when you come up in the building treat me like im the boss
2x

its been a minute since i got up out the crib
you talkin to me i said tell me what it is
i need a rack for every word that imma spit
im from the 619 like pussy boy lets get it in

out the mouth bitch i spit straight ism
when i shoot bitch its all precision
aim for the eyes like you got no vision
why you pussies stuck in place you mentally imprisoned

OUT THE CRIB! (PROD. JXYLN)

r.i.p. dove

grey ever my brain, peel it
never go your way, real shit
still get in your way, my god
waste away your last, time's up
time's up, nothing ever lasts
going out bad or sad, either way it's fast
happens in a flash, happens when you want
if you got the guts, done
r.i.p. to dove, if she still anything that's anywhere
i know she in the sun, resting in the clouds
i can't lie, it's where i wanna be, but for now
figure this shit out

r.i.p. freestyle (prod. nightrdd + estheticgloom + skinnydrag)

pequeñas cosas (prod. landfill/landstrike)

GORT ES EL MEJOR ARTISTA FT GODHANDUSA [prod gort]

LYRICS:

MONGO:
I WANNA ROLL, WANNA CHIEF, WANNA SMOKE ME A BLUNT
I CAN FEEL MY EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD
I CAN FEEL MY EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD
(x2)

WHERE I’M AT, WHERE I’M FROM, ALL MY BROTHAS HOLD A GUN
I BEEN KNOWN WHAT IT’S ‘BOUT, CHANGE YA TONE, GET THE DUBS
GET THE CRUMBS IF YOU LACK, STOMP HIM IN HIS FUCKIN’ TONGUE
IF HE TALK ON MY SOUL, I’MMA LEAVE HIM PRAYIN’ HOE
CALI GOLD, WRITE THE MAP, PISTOL IN MY FUCKIN’ LAP
NO ESCAPE, NO REGARD, EVERY DAY I’M GOIN’ HARD
SMOKE MY DOPE, CUT THE CHECK, SMOKIN’ TO THE FUCKIN’ NECK
LIFE IS GOOD, NEVER STRESS, FOCUS ON WHAT’S COMIN’ NEXT
CALI BORN, BITCH I’M STAYIN’ DOWN, I’MMA TAKE THE CROWN
ON MY SOUL, SHOUTOUT TENNESSEE, SHOUTOUT H-TOWN
G-O-D LIVE INSIDE YA WALLS, AIN’T NO FUCKIN’ JOKE
M-O-N TO THE G-O CUZ THAT’S ALL I KNOW
LIGHT THE PIFF, FRY IT WHILE I CRUISE, THIS THE LIFE I LIVE
YOU DON’T LIKE IT BITCH, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK, SUCK MY DICK
G-O-D ALWAYS KEEP IT REAL, HANDS UP TO THE SKY
PUTTIN’ ROUNDS INTO DEMONKIND TILL THE DAY I DIE

I WANNA ROLL, WANNA CHIEF, WANNA SMOKE ME A BLUNT
I CAN FEEL MY EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD
I CAN FEEL MY EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD
(x2)

GONDA:
I REMEMBER SAN JOSE BEFORE THE IPHONE
IN THE STREET, THAT’S THE ONLY PLACE THAT I KNOW
DRIVIN’ DOWN TO SEAL BEACH FROM THE LBC
ON THE PCH, IN THE PARKING LOT WE TRYNA BUY DOPE
WAY BEFORE DISPENSARIES, I WAS THE PACK MAN
EATIN’ GOOD, TURN HIM TO A GHOST, I FEEL LIKE PAC MAN
EATIN’ ICE CREAM WITH MY GIRL, WE BOUGHT A BLACK & TAN
AND SHE BLACK & TAN FROM THE ISLANDS UNDER JAPAN
YEAH, SHE FROM MANILA SIPPIN’ COCONUT RIGHT OUT THE CAN
SHE DON’T LIKE VANILLA, GONDA, HE GOT SOME MELANIN
FLIPPIN’ DOPE, MR. GET YA FIX, MR. TELL A FRIEND
MR. I COULD SELL YOU 12 OUNCES FOR THE PRICE OF 10
IT FEEL LIKE I’M WRITIN’ HOLY SCRIPTURE WHEN I CLICK THE PEN
BEEN DOIN’ THIS MUSIC SHIT SO LONG, I RAP IN R.E.M.
WHEN I’M SLEEP, IN MY DREAMS, MELODIES AND BPMS
ANY SPEED, I COULD RAP FOREVER WHEN I’M FEELIN’ ZEN

MONGO:
I WANNA ROLL, WANNA CHIEF, WANNA SMOKE ME A BLUNT
I CAN FEEL MY EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD
I CAN FEEL MY EYES IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD
(x2)

CALI GOLD (PROD. KAMANUGUE + EIIKEII)

GONDA:
SHE GIVIN’ HEAD SAME TIME EVERY DAY
PROBABLY WHY THEY CALL THAT SHIT A BLOWJOB
HOW YOU WEARIN’ J’S AND A CHAIN BUT YOU STILL DON’T GOT NO MONEY?
MAN I FIND THAT SHIT SO ODD
TRYNA TELL ME HOW TO RAP HOE
AIN’T NOBODY TEACH YOU HOW TO WORRY BOUT YO ASS THOUGH?
NO? I’M THE MUTHAFUCKIN’ SHIT, BITCH
THAT MEAN GOD IS THE ASSHOLE

SUBWOOFER IN THE TRUNK MAKE ‘EM VIBRATE
HENNY IN THE CUP HOW I HYDRATE
WALK UP IN THE ROOM, YOU CAN SEE THE HOES MIGRATE
BITCH I’M GOIN’ UP LIKE THE CRIME RATE
I DON’T EVER STOP, GIVE A FUCK WHAT THE SIGN SAY?
EVERY SINGLE RULE, I VIOLATE
YOU TRYNA GET OLDER AND DIE IN YA SLEEP
THE WAY I’M LIVIN’, BITCH I’M PROBABLY GONNA DIE AWAKE
SHE TRYNA TAKE E, I GIVE HER ASS A BEAN
SHE POP IT THEN I WATCH HER EYES DILATE
SHE TRYNA POP A PERC BUT HER PERC DON’T WORK
PULL UP ON THE GUY WHO SOLD IT AND ANNIHILATE

TRYNA TELL ME HOW TO RAP HOE?
AIN’T NOBODY TEACH YOU HOW TO WORRY BOUT YO ASS THOUGH?
NO? I’M THE MUTHAFUCKIN’ SHIT, BITCH
THAT MUST MEAN GOD IS THE ASSHOLE

MONGO:
MONEY SPREAD ON MY NIGHTSTAND
BLUES TAKE THE COLOR OUT YO FACE, LEAVE ‘EM TERRIFIED
EVERY CITY, BITCHES SUCKIN’ DICK
CHECK A TRICK, LEAVE HIS ASS BLUE, BITCH I’M VERIFIED
GOT THE BLURPERS ON MY TAIL
CAN’T KICK IT WITH A SUCKA WHO GET PARANOID AND PARALYZED
TAPED UP 4 SIDES, COVER BOTH EYES
LEAVE HIM IN A CARDBOARD BOX WITH NO AIR INSIDE
DRO THAT I’M BLOWIN’ ON LIFT WEIGHTS
GOT ME LOOKIN’ LIKE THE ACTORS IN THE MOVIE PARASITE
BITCH THIS BALLIN’ IS HEREDITARY
HUSTLE LIKE MY POPS, BITCH HE TAUGHT ME HOW TO PAIR A 5
PAIR A 10, PAIR A HUNNID
STEPPED INTO THE MALL AND I BALLED LIKE BUDDEN
STICK MY FINGERS IN HER BUTT LIKE A PUPPET
BOUGHT HER ASS A GEM, NOW SHE SUCKIN’ IT IN PUBLIC
REAL PIECE OF SHIT SHIT TALKER
IMMA GET UP IN HER INSIDES LIKE A SKINWALKER
SHE WANT A DIAMOND CHAIN, WASHINGTON CARVER
BUY HER ASS A PURSE, THEN RIGHT AFTER, HIT A LICK ON HER
STILL GON’ LET ME DROP THE DICK ON HER
PUT A HUNNID ROUNDS INTO ANY BITCH THAT PICK ON HER
SHE WANT ME TO PUT A RING ON HER
CUZ I’M ALWAYS BRINGIN’ HOME THE BACON LIKE A PIG FARMER
SHE TRYNA POP A BEAN OR A 15
BITCH I GOT EXACTLY WHAT YOU NEED LIKE BIG PHARMA
SUCKA ASS RAPPERS FALLIN’ OFF
HONESTLY I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU BRO, THAT’S JUST KARMA
TRYNA TELL ME HOW TO RAP HOE?
AIN’T NOBODY TEACH YOU HOW TO WORRY BOUT YO ASS THOUGH?
NO? I’M THE MUTHAFUCKIN’ SHIT, BITCH
THAT MUST MEAN GOD IS THE ASSHOLE

GONDA:
SHE GIVIN’ HEAD SAME TIME EVERY DAY
PROBABLY WHY THEY CALL THAT SHIT A BLOWJOB
HOW YOU WEARIN’ J’S AND A CHAIN BUT YOU STILL DON’T GOT NO MONEY?
MAN I FIND THAT SHIT SO ODD
TRYNA TELL ME HOW TO RAP HOE
AIN’T NOBODY TEACH YOU HOW TO WORRY BOUT YO ASS THOUGH?
NO? I’M THE MUTHAFUCKIN’ SHIT, BITCH
THAT MEAN GOD IS THE ASSHOLE

ASSHOLE (PROD. FONY WALLACE + DROCOOKEDTHIS)

NOT ENOUGH SPACE FOR THE LYRICS ON THIS ONE, WILL UPDATE GENIUS SOON! 🪬

77.7 HAND OF GOD FM NO.1 (PROD. FONY WALLACE + ETC.)

LYRICS:

GONDA:
YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY GO CALL 911
FUCK YOU TRYNA FIGHT WITH ME FOR? YOU SHOULD REALLY GO HIDE AND RUN
HOP OUT WITH THE TOOL AND FIX HIM UP LIKE I’M A HANDYMAN
YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY CALL THE AMBULANCE

CALL THE AMBULANCE, YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY CALL THE AMBULANCE X2

MONGO:
SUCKA YOU SHOULD REALLY CRY FOR HELP
YO HOMIE ON A STRETCHER, MAKE THAT 9 AND 10, 11, 12
CRACK YO GODDAMN CRANIUM, THAT PISTOL WHIP SOUND LIKE A BELL
THAT TOLL FOR YOUR MISTAKES, I PRAY TO GOD YOU DON’T GET SENT TO HELL
I’M CATCHIN’ BODIES LIKE A FIREFIGHTER OR FIRST RESPONDER
IRON SIGHT ON YO BROTHERS, THAT BITCH FYE FYE
RED LIGHTS COME SCREAMIN’ DOWN THE BLOCK, YOU SHOULDA THOUGHT
YOU SHOULDA TURNED AROUND, YOU KNOW I’M FINNA POP

GONDA:
YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY GO CALL 911
FUCK YOU TRYNA FIGHT WITH ME FOR? YOU SHOULD REALLY GO HIDE AND RUN
HOP OUT WITH THE TOOL AND FIX HIM UP LIKE I’M A HANDYMAN
YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY CALL THE AMBULANCE

CALL THE AMBULANCE, YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY CALL THE AMBULANCE X2

MY CHOPPA STRETCH A DEMON OUT LIKE LAFFY TAFFY
LAUGHIN’ IN YO FACE, UNDERNEATH MY MASK I’M VERY HAPPY
I COULD LET YOU BURN IN HELL OR GO TO HEAVEN WHERE IT’S GRASSY
PUT YOU IN A WHEELCHAIR, SHOOT YOU IN THE BACK, DEGRASSI
BITCH I CAME TO KILL
PUT SOME POINTS UP ON THE BOARD FOR GOD, HIS HEMOGLOBIN SPILL
PULL UP WITH THE TOOL, THAT HAMMER BLAMMIN’, THIS SHIT NOT A DRILL
YOU TRYNA TEXT YO HOMIES BUT YOU SHOULD BE TYPIN’ UP YO WILL

YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY GO CALL 911
FUCK YOU TRYNA FIGHT WITH ME FOR? YOU SHOULD REALLY GO HIDE AND RUN
HOP OUT WITH THE TOOL AND FIX HIM UP LIKE I’M A HANDYMAN
YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY CALL THE AMBULANCE

CALL THE AMBULANCE, YOU CALLIN’ ALL YO HOMIES, YOU SHOULD REALLY CALL THE AMBULANCE X2

AMBULANCE (PROD FONY WALLACE + TYLUR OCEAN)

LYRICS:

GONDA:
EVERYBODY TRIPPIN’, GOTTA STAY COOL
GOTTA STAY TRUE TO THE LIFE I BEEN LIVIN’
ROLLIN’ WITH THE CREW IN THE 562
BLUE CADILLAC, RIMS SPINNIN’ ON IT TOO
CHILL THE FUCK OUT, CHILL THE FUCK OUT
I TELL ‘EM CHILL THE FUCK OUT
YOU GOTTA CHILL THE FUCK OUT, AHHH

SUNSET IN LA, THE SKY IS BEAUTIFUL
PALM TREES, THC, THAT’S INDISPUTABLE
PULL UP AT IN-N-OUT, I NEED A DOUBLE DOUBLE
GONDA AND MONGO, YO BITCH CALL US DOUBLE TROUBLE
SMOKE SHOP SELLIN’ FRONTO
AIN’T NO ID CHECK FOR ME, I NEED IT PRONTO
SAID HE TRYNA COP A SACK, DONDE Y CUANDO?
WHITE LIKE A BRONCO, MY STICK COME WITH A BONGO
LONG DAY AT WORK, YEAH
PUT MY FEET UP ON THE COUCH, FLATSCREEN LED TV
WATCHIN’ DVDS, WEED GOT NO SEEDS
CBD AND THE TERPENES, SHAWTY SNORTIN’ POWDER LIKE IT’S BIRD FEED
THAT AIN’T FOR ME, IT MAKE ME FEEL LAME
I COULD GIVE YOU ONE BUT I DON’T REALLY FUCK WITH PILLS MANE
DRO ALL I NEED TO GO RIGHT UP THRU THE CEILING
EVERYBODY TRIPPIN, TURN MY PHONE OFF AND CHILL MANE

EVERYBODY TRIPPIN’, GOTTA STAY COOL
GOTTA STAY TRUE TO THE LIFE I BEEN LIVIN’
ROLLIN’ WITH THE CREW IN THE 562
BLUE CADILLAC, RIMS SPINNIN’ ON IT TOO
CHILL THE FUCK OUT, CHILL THE FUCK OUT
I TELL ‘EM CHILL THE FUCK OUT
YOU GOTTA CHILL THE FUCK OUT, AHHH

MONGO:
IF YOU KNOW WHERE I’M FROM, YOU KNOW THE GAME
PARTY IN DC, CRANKIN’ YAY
HOMIES ON THE BLOCK, HOES ON THE BLADE
UNCLE ON THE ROCK, WELCOME TO THE BAY
CROSS THE BRIDGE WITH MY BITCH, WHAT WE FINNA HIT?
HAIGHT STREET FOR THE THREADS, AFTER THAT IT’S TWIN
PEAKS, SMOKIN’ WEED, DON’T EVEN NEED TO SPEAK
TRYNA FIND MY PEACE WITH EVIL IN THE STREETS
I’M JUST TRYNA CHILL EVERY DAMN DAY
LET ME KNOW WHAT’S GOOD BRO, I GOT GAS FADE
MONGO NEVER BEEN ONE FOR THE RAT RACE
I LIKE TO SIT DOWN, SAVOR HOW THE PACK TASTES
LIFE IS SHORT, DEATH IS LONG
CAN’T COUNT HOW MANY TIMES I PLAYED MY FAVORITE SONG
KEEP IT CHILL, AIN’T NOTHIN’ WRONG
DON’T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES YOU’LL GET TO SING ALONG

GONDA:
EVERYBODY TRIPPIN’, GOTTA STAY COOL
GOTTA STAY TRUE TO THE LIFE I BEEN LIVIN’
ROLLIN’ WITH THE CREW IN THE 562
BLUE CADILLAC, RIMS SPINNIN’ ON IT TOO
CHILL THE FUCK OUT, CHILL THE FUCK OUT
I TELL ‘EM CHILL THE FUCK OUT
YOU GOTTA CHILL THE FUCK OUT, AHHH

CHILL TF OUT (PROD. FONY WALLACE + S3V3NTHEAVEN)

LYRICS:

GONDA:
BITCH! HAHA!
IT’S GODHAND BACK IN THIS BITCH!
GONDA, MONGO, AND FONY WALLACE
HERE TO FUCK UP YA EARDRUMS, YA HEARD ME?
GODHAND!

MONGO:
STACK MY BREAD, COUNT MY DOUGH
BUSTA YOU ALREADY KNOW
G-O-D ON YO SCREEN, 
SERVIN’ ALL THESE GODDAMN FIENDS
COUNT MY CHIPS, FUCK MY BITCH
TRYNA GET ALL MY PATNAS RICH
G-O-D ON YO PHONE
WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON?

WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON?
MONGO, SFC, GET THE BIPPIN’ ON
COME TO THE CITY HOE, LOOK AT WHAT I’M SIPPIN’ ON
EVERY TIME YO BITCH IN THE AREA SHE HIT THE PHONE
I BEEN KNOWN TO GRIP THE POLE
GET HER IN THE SPOT WITHOUT A WORD, THAT’S A ROOKIE GOAL
IT’S THE HAND THAT SHE WANT IN HER PUSSYHOLE
YEAH, I HEARD THAT YOU WAS POPPIN’ BUT I COULD BE WRONG
PROBABLY IS
MONGO OFF THE THIZZ, AIN’T NO MOLLY BITCH
TWIRL AND HE DROP, AIN’T NO BOBBY BITCH, OBVIOUS
EVERYBODY AND THEY DIRTY MAMA TRYNA COPY THIS
NOW I’M OUT FOR BLOOD AND YO BLOCK LOOKIN’ THE OPPYEST
WHAT’S THE WORD? GET ‘EM PACKED OUT
ROLLIN’ THRU THE BURBS WITH MY STRAP OUT
FEEL LIKE A MARINE, GREEN BEAM CAUTERIZE YA SPLEEN, HOE
G-O-D-H-A-N-D THE TEAM HOE

STACK MY BREAD, COUNT MY DOUGH
BUSTA YOU ALREADY KNOW
G-O-D ON YO SCREEN, 
SERVIN’ ALL THESE GODDAMN FIENDS
COUNT MY CHIPS, FUCK MY BITCH
TRYNA GET ALL MY PATNAS RICH
G-O-D ON YO PHONE
WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON?

GONDA:
WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON?
562 TO THE 916, BIG STICKS
TUCKED IN MY TRUE RELIGION, FUCKIN’ WOMEN, SELLIN’ DOPE
I BEEN SINNIN’ BUT I KNOW THAT GOD GOT MY BACK THOUGH
I JUST NUTTED IN YO BITCH AND RAN RIGHT OUT THE BACK DOOR
SHE SAID “GONDA I LOVE YOU, MY MAN IS NOT ENOUGH”
FUCKIN’ WHITE, YELLOW, TAN, BROWN, AND THEM BLACK HOES
DON’T DISCRIMINATE WHEN I IMPREGNATE, I KNOCK’ EM UP
I’M A REAL PLAYA, FUCK A NAYSAYER
MIGHT GO TO THE BAY THEN LA LATER
I TOLD THE WAITER I NEED CHEDDAR CHEESE, GOUDA, PROVOLONE
I’M IN THE TRAP HOUSE LIKE EVERY DAY, THIS SHIT LIKE HOME ALONE
AIN’T TRYNA TALK UNTIL I SEE YOU CUZ THE POLICE ON THE PHONE
THIS HENNESSY LIKE HAMAS MISSILES, TAKE THAT SHIT RIGHT TO THE DOME
SHE GOT THAT TEMPUR-PEDIC MATTRESS, I MIGHT JUST RIP THE FOAM
YOU TALKIN’ STUPID, GRAB MY BELT, BITCH WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON?

MONGO & GONDA:
STACK MY BREAD, COUNT MY DOUGH
BUSTA YOU ALREADY KNOW
G-O-D ON YO SCREEN, 
SERVIN’ ALL THESE GODDAMN FIENDS
COUNT MY CHIPS, FUCK MY BITCH
TRYNA GET ALL MY PATNAS RICH
G-O-D ON YO PHONE
WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON?

GONDA:
WHO THE FUCK YOU TRIPPIN’ ON DUMBASS?
IT’S G-O-D-H-A-N-D
GODHAND!

YOU ALREADY KNOW (PROD. FONY WALLACE + YOUNGYANABU)

LYRICS:

MONGO:
AYYY!
GODHAND, GODHAND
AYYY!
GODHAND, GODHAND

WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
GOT YO BROTHER IN THE TRUNK
WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
GOT YO BITCH ON MY NUTS X2

WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
YOU KNOW MONGO ALWAYS STAY UP IN THE CUT
CATCHIN’ FADES IN THE BAY WITH MY CUZ
YO BROTHER CATCH A STRAY WHEN I PLAY WITH MY GUN
I’M A PSYCHOPATHIC TRIGGER HAPPY FREAK
HIT YO BITCH PHONE WHEN I GET THE PILLS THEN WE GEEK
GET UP IN IT GOOD EVERY NIGHT, EVERY WEEK
IF YOU KNOCKIN’ AT MY DOOR, HIT CTRL+ALT+DELETE
WHAT IT IS MUTHAFUCKA? WHAT IT BE?
I COULD LEAVE YOU BLEEDIN’ SLOW OUT IN THE STREET
WITH MY 9MM, NEED A M FOR THE FEAT
THAT’S A M FOR THE NAME, ON GO FOR THE CHEESE
KEEP IT G ON DA ROAD WITH MY DAWGS
PLAYIN’ PACKED OUT SHOWS LIKE THE WOODS, LIKE THE LOGS
YO BROTHER IS A SNITCH, IN THE BOOKS, IN THE LOGS
IMMA RUN OFF ON THE JAKES LIKE A GHOST IN THE FOG

WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
GOT YO BROTHER IN THE TRUNK
WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
GOT YO BITCH ON MY NUTS X2

GONDA:
WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
YOU KNOW IF IT’S UP THEN IT’S STUCK AND YOU SHIT OUTTA LUCK
I’M A G, O, YOU GON’ HAVE TO SIGN A NDA
TRYNA FUCK WITH GONDA, THROW YO PHONE IN THE SAFE
TOOK ALONDRA TO LAKEWOOD, DOWN TO THE 1
IF IT’S UP THEN IT’S STUCK LIKE SOME FUCKIN’ BUBBLEGUM
PULLED UP ON HIM AT THE GOLF COURSE, SHOOTIN’ PAR
BEAT HIM UP AND RAN HIM OVER WITH HIS OWN GOLF CART
RACK IT BACK LIKE BANG WITH THE MASK ON
BACK IN GRADE SCHOOL, ALL THE BITCHES USED TO PASS ON ME
NOW THEY HEAD DOWN, ASS UP, TRYNA GET SOME
TRYNA TAKE A PIC AT THE SHOW WHEN MY SET DONE
I SAID WHAT IT IS?
BUSSIN’ HELLA NUTS, I MIGHT HAVE A HUNNID KIDS
FUCK YOU TALKIN’ BOUT BITCH? NO ONE ASKED YOU
IMMA TELL IT HOW IT IS CUZ I HAVE TO

MONGO:
WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
GOT YO BROTHER IN THE TRUNK
WHAT IT IS HOE?!
WASSUP?
GOT YO BITCH ON MY NUTS X2

WHAT IT IS HOE?! (PROD. FONY WALLACE)

Dreams and Nightmares is Willa’s most cinematic and emotionally scorched project to date—a full-length descent into the tension between ambition and trauma, fantasy and fear. This isn’t just an album. It’s a reckoning. Every track feels like a confession wrapped in fire, a dream that turns into a scream.

Willa sits on the throne alone—hooded, faceless, and unbothered.

Verses that bleed with vulnerability and venom

Hooks that echo like haunted prayers

Production that fuses trap drums, ambient distortion, gospel choirs, and horror textures

She’s not chasing light. She’s naming the shadows. This album is for the ones who built their legacy in silence, who danced with demons and still showed up glowing. Willa doesn’t ask for grace. She demands truth.

CHILL TF OUT (PROD. FONY WALLACE + S3V3NTHEAVEN)

godhandusa

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