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Gucci Mane - Free Hank Ft Enchanting Pooh Shiesty Roboy Lyrics

"Free Hank" lyrics Enchanting Lyrics "Free Hank"
(feat. Pooh Shiesty & Roboy)

Yeah, uh
Yeah, yeah
Ayy

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, these 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 the 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)

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)

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'