Free Game Lyrics
They like get in yo bag, bitch, I been in mines
If Mel order four, I probably send him five
Kill ’em down, Cannon wit’ me, crippin’, tryna kill a five
Oh, you don’t bang shit, same shit still a-get you fried
Drop something then skate off, I still remember six to nine
Fuck dawg, he hatin’ on me, I still be in this bitch wit’ mine
DJ Drama
You n***** can’t fuck with us
They like get in yo bag, bitch, I been in mines
If Mel order four, I probably send him five
Kill ’em down, Cannon wit’ me, crippin’, tryna kill a five
Oh, you don’t bang shit, same shit still a-get you fried
Drop something then skate off, I still remember six to nine
Fuck dawg, he hatin’ on me, I still be in this bitch wit’ mine
Mr. Thanksgiving
Did some time, like six years, how you feelin’?
I ain’t goin’ back, don’t get killed, that’s on my n****
Everybody on finkles still gon’ put ’em on the payroll
I could fuck whoever bitch, my n****, just don’t hate on me
I’m straight on you, n***** out here still doin’ sucka shit
I done fucked his main ho, his sister and his brother bitch
Can’t trust a bitch, n***** out here starvin’, doggie send something
I still be sellin’, them people on me had to switch up
Now let me see something ’cause I’m still turnt
Fight who I kill first
Dog on me don’t be a purse
Street Chanel, them real percs
Then bae like when we kick it
She pop it off by suckin’ dick, then bae like she can get it
I like freak hoes that eat hoes
That slap five when we done
I hate hoe n***** and broke n*****, won’t catch me with no bums
Got the white arms wit’ a clear lens, can’t catch me in my buffs
I done said this shit a hundred times, can’t beef about no sluts
Know I pulled up fresh as fuck
In that brand new Lambo truck, skirt off on a dead body
Did a hit right in the foreign, it’s a big body
Ain’t know about it but now you know we did body
Yo bitch in my crib suckin’ my dick and she get real sloppy
Ain’t wanna tell you that shit dog, ’cause you be in yo’ feelin’s
You ain’t doin no killin’, you ain’t never pay no killas
Pussy that ain’t Wockhardt, you sippin’ on penicillin
I’ma stack this money up until I feel the ceiling
I ain’t want yo bitch, she looked at me like really, really
I’m in yo’ city with these buffs on like I ain’t from Philly
My life ain’t silly, I woke up and then made a milli
TLC mean too much lettuce cheese, my bitch look like chili
No, I’m never stuck, never stuck
Hold my pants up ’cause the forty tucked
I ain’t never meet a bitch that didn’t fuck something
I ain’t never meet a bitch that didn’t suck something
Know these n***** pussy, they ain’t gon’ buss nothing
Nick Cannon walkin’ with a big ol’ drum
Countin’ all this money made me risk my thumbs
Smokin’ all these opps made me risk my lungs