Top Songs By B Free
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brenton M Freeman
Songwriter
Lyrics
"Go to the, I don't give a fuck if you gotta pick up your kids!
Go to the fucking Wendy's dude!"
Aye, look I ain't tryna waste time
I be with the hoe's that's giving FaceTime
I know she know imma dog on my K-9
I heard them talking bout' the boy through the grape vine
She looking at me like she wanna fuck, I know that
Her ass fat I'm like, "Come here and let me hold that"
Kodak, throwback, know that no man ever showed that they can fuck with golden
Boy I got the potion, leave her pussy soaking
Marc told me, I'm getting it
I'm getting money, we getting lit
I'm too legit
Like MC Hammer
She dancing on me
I fucked her after
Oh man, imma young rich nigga
Gold chains, gold grill, go figure
I'm fly as hell, my niggas is fly as well
My girl she in all Chanel
I did it without your help screaming
"STOP HATING! PUSSY BOY STOP HATING!"
And to all the booking agents at my shows tryna book me
I can't do it if you niggas not paying
I ain't got the time nor the patience
Shit, my momma got bills too
Ain't shit free around here
Unless you ass tryna come through
Tell lil momma come and buss it for me
I've been outta town a nigga busy performing
And balancing my account like the shit was really important
I told her that, "I'm the boy with the lifestyle"
But the boy become the man when the lights down
Oh your friends bad too, they need a flight out
And we can do whatever, whenever the lights down
Real shit
Man the cops caught me slipping at the bar
I was hotter than a bitch
Had the plug all on the phone
With the blunt all on my lip
My uncle told me if I take the charge
They'll hit me with a slap on the wrist
So the cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
And they ain't let me off easy
Keep it greasy
Talking bout' he wanna see my license, registration
Why you pussy boys hating on my banks statements
Yo, you can get a check to
And I've been shitting on you haters since a test tube baby
Your rest is too lengthy
The whole car stanking
All he smell is liq from my cup and gas up in my blunt
I'm rolling focued, I've been flowing potent
Yogaifed, how I stretch
Money scary like a poltergeist
And all this green that I throw up
Niggas getting hurt when I show, like show out
Baddest black barbie, I flip like Jeff Hardy
You awesome, hardly
You don't even own a weapon
All my niggas up in yo section
Flexing, we deck on any nigga stepping
Nigga fuck you and whoever you came with
Gold same niggas since sand and stone ages
Brainless crazy, I've been shitting since a baby
Stop complaining that's that bitch up in your fragrance
Times are wasting, losing patience
I've been sitting waiting on one of you niggas to try me
Golden homie, I keep it one hundred
Call of Duty, cuz I'm finna catch a body
If ever you niggas can't understand me
She put the strap all up in her panty
Down lady, yeah that's my baby
And I'm clutching mine soI'm locked and ready
Here come the squad cars
Bitch I'm looking like a lick
Bitch I keep the burner on my hip
Free got the gat and he got it on his lap
When the mothafuckin
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Cops pulled me over with the strap on my lap
Writer(s): Brenton Freeman
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