Free Hank (feat. Pooh Shiesty & Roboy)

Yeah, uh Yeah, yeah Ayy Verse 1: Enchanting & Pooh Shiesty Trappin' ain't dead, these niggas just scared Yeah They turn, they run to the feds God She say, Open your eyes, I'm like, lil' bitch, I'm high Can't you tell that I'm full of them meds On God We are down on the scoreboard, you gotta forfeit All of yo' niggas is dead Come get your ho back, that pussy throwback Blow me up, hit me, I leave 'em on read Blaow I'll fuck on your bitch, I don't lay up I'm rollin' on X just to stay up Ayy Skinny bitch, but you see that my weight up Tryna fuck you right now, I won't wait up On God Bitch, I'm blowed, I been runnin' that cake up Uh-huh Might speak it to 'em, I don't say much Bitch, I'm MVP still, I don't play much Titties on the Glock, thesе are no A-cups Uh-huh, woah They know ain't no ho in my blood My dad ain't yo' uncle, so I ain't yo' cuz Ayy, you know thе old me, so don't approach me Nigga, this ain't what it was They mad that I done run my sack up Racks up, earned it, this shit out the mud Cross me and I gotta get payback No you can't pay that, I want it in blood On God Free Hank 'til my brother come home My fellas stay grippin' that chrome, uh Bitches sellin' their cat, I sell songs Done ran up that sack on my phone I cannot make this shit up Boy, yo' ass limp, can't get up Do this shit for my mama, can't give up Niggas fake, crop their ass out the picture Ayy, ayy I be full of that juice like a pitcher Uh You a opp now, it ain't nothin with ya Nuh-uh, ayy Yeah, it's all from the gang so we get up Look Ain't no competition, so just give up Yo' lil' girlfriend go down and she eat up Bad lil' bitch with a magazine, no pages Yeah, yeah You lil' niggas be broke, makin' no wages Bitch, go talk to God if you need savin' Ayy, big brr Verse 2: Pooh Shiesty Tote the chop with the box, got cable Tried to run up, now he disabled Can't walk Drop A Body ENT my label Co-sign If I ain't do it myself, I paid him On God Every gun got a drum and a laser And a scope Yo' shooter ain't shit, just trade 'em Gotta go He got hit up close, cremate 'em Brr Nigga won't tote Drac' 'til I made him Brr, brr, on God, yeah, yeah FN on the stove when I cook up I cook up Hundred deep at the show when they book up Every time I look up Gave him two to the chest, can't sit up Brr I told Chant, Keep shootin', might get up Brr, brr If you with me ain't no in the middle No DOA, couldn't get to the spitter Can't see in the dark FOA's want three, four killers Brr After this four, I'ma need a new liver Let's go Verse 3: Roboy Hit the club out of my body and ain't worry 'bout it 'cause I brought them killers in here I ain't with all of that talkin', as soon as you start it I bet I'ma finish it here Whole lotta water on me, diamonds dancin' like the Harlem Shake With a nigga tank on E, if they gas 'em we gon' off his face My shooter one call away, this shit get ruthless, goin' hard, no play We ballin' all the way and we ain't hoopin' Stand up nigga, I'm a lion like Lucious, stupid If you think I'm lovin' these groupies, use it If you say you packin' your toolie, losin' Nigga, that's somethin' I ain't doin'