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"Free Game" Lyrics

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(Antt did the track)
(They talkin' 'bout out here)
I'm really like that
They like, "Get in yo' bag," bitch, I been in mines
If Mel order four I probably send him five
Kill 'em, Don Cherry wit' me, Crippin' tryna kill a Five
Oh you don't bang shit? Same shit, still'll get you fried
Drop somethin' 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)
(Antt did the track)
Hahahaha
(They talkin' 'bout out here)
You niggas 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, Don Cherry wit' me, Crippin' tryna kill a Five
Oh you don't bang shit? Same shit, still'll get you fried
Drop somethin' 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 nigga)
Everybody on a finkle, still won't put 'em on the payroll
I could fuck whoever bitch, my nigga, just don't hate on me
I'm straight on you, niggas out here still doin' sucka shit (hoe-niggas)
I done fucked his main hoe, his sister and his brother bitch
Can't trust a bitch
Niggas out here starvin', doggy, send somethin'
I still be sellin'
Them people on me, I had to switch some (no bap, nigga)
Been six summers, I'm still turnt
Fight who? I kill first
Dog on me, don't deal Percs
Three Chanels, them real purses
Bae like when we kick it
She pop it off by suckin' dick
And bae like, "She can get it"
I like freak-hoes that eat hoes and slap fives when we done
I hate hoe-niggas and broke niggas, won't catch me with no bums (bah)

Got them white arms on them clear lens, can't catch me in my Buffs
I done sonned his shit a hundred times can't beef about no sluts
Know I pulled up fresh as fuck (get 'em)
In that brand new Lambo' truck
Skrrt off on a dead body
Did a hit right in the foreign, it's a big body (yeah)
Ain't know about it, but now you know that we been 'bout it
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' feelings (feelings)
You ain't do no killin', you ain't never pay no killers (no)
Pussy, that ain't Wockhardt (what are you sippin'?)
You sippin' on penicillin (lame)
I'ma stack this money up until I feel the ceilin'
I ain't want yo' bitch she looked at me like really really (really really)
I'm in yo' city with these Buffs on like I ain't from Philly (Philly)
My life ain't silly I woke up and then I made a milli' (made a milli')
T-L-C mean too much lettuce cheese, my bitch look like Chili (yeah)
No I'm never stuck, never stuck (stuck)
Hold my pants up 'cause the forty tucked (baow, ooh)
I ain't never meet a bitch that didn't fuck somethin' (nah)
I ain't never meet a bitch that didn't suck somethin'
Know these niggas pussy they ain't gon' buss nothin' (at all)
Nick Cannon walkin' with a big ol' drum
Countin' all this money make me risk my thumbs
Smokin' all these opps make me risk my lungs (period)
song info:
Verified yes
LanguageEnglish
Genre
Rank
Duration00:02:23
Charts
Copyright ©Warner Chappell Music
WriterTyree Simmons, Symere Woods, A. Britten II, Dion Hayes
Lyrics licensed byLyricFind
AddedMarch 30th, 2023
Last updatedMarch 30th, 2023
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