Game 7

Lyrics

[Intro] (Damjonboi) [Verse: TrDee, StanWill & BabyTron] ShittyBoyz, DogShit Militia, bitch, act like you know Yeah, I see you pulled up to the club, but what you finna throw? Shit, boy, you ain't throwin' nothin' At least a Benji in my whip, the chopstick hold the hundred Why you approachin' us like that? You must be smokin' somethin' The way I know the game, you'd think I was the coach or somethin' Shot him from the corner like he had a scope or somethin' Think he gettin' high, lil' brodie sippin' Robitussin Gang are masked up like it's Halloween and shit get more than scary Bitch a model with exotic, ain't shit 'bout me ordinary Tryna overdo it, takin' boomies while I torch the cherry Hutch or Icebox, I can't even fake it like I'm sporting Gary Locked in, I'm on game seven type of time Ain't got no hustle 'cause you steady runnin' from the grind You runnin' from the grind, I run into them dollar signs Lil' brodie crashin' out, I need to teach him how to drive School of aviation, swear shit's taught us how to fly Effortless my middle name, I don't even know how to try Talkin' 'bout three-hundred for a feature, finna ho this guy If he see just what his bitch be doin', it's gon' hurt his eye Shit, the bag I'm in so deep, I might get lost up in it Fuck a bitch and act like I don't know her, think I caught dementia Thirty for a verse, lil' bitch, I talk expensive You the type to never slide down, but'll type the longest message Doggy think that he a stepper, boy, you ain't Columbus Short Bitches white-black, salt and pepper, ballin' like I play a sport He keep thinkin' he a G, that's what the K is for Brodie chuck the deuces to the deuces, now he facin' fours I don't play the four, I'm a point god Balaclava season, it ain't shit to get them boys robbed [Outro: BabyTron] ShittyBoyz, DogShit Militia Balaclava, balacla—, uh