Freddie Gibbs, The Game, Bobby Shmurda, Skeme - Hit Em Hard lyrics

I got a black mac and a six pack
I don't work out, I don't chit chat
My bitch bad, I get racks
That Rolls Royce, come gift-wrapped
Them birds still come shrink-wrapped
I'm not strapped, don't think that
I'm low key with that click clack
That rat a tat tat tat tat
Throw the burner and I'm runnin' home
Niggas stop being loyal when the money gone
Still walk in this bitch
I'm a hundred strong
One chain on my neck
Feel like I got a hundred on
Look at my flow on this bitch
Platinum and gold on my wrist
Money, the accountant be countin' it
That's why I'm throwin' this shit
I'm in BK with that SK
Same clothes since yesterday
With that Biggie Smalls on replay


And I ain’t wearing no vest today
I do the Shmoney dance with this mac
You better do it too or get Shmurda’d
I be grilling that beef
I ain’t talkin’ no burgers
I finna be walkin’ like I’m a New Yorker
I let off the K and then I hope in the Uber
It’s never a question that I am the shooter
I empty the clip and lay you in a pool of
Blood, see how he got hit with the Ruger?
Blood, bandana that’s how we be movin’
Blood, swooping from Compton to Brooklyn
And this ain’t the Barclays
But niggas be shootin’

Running niggas down back and forth
I’m like pass the torch
Blast it off
Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off
First to score
We gon’ hit 'em hard
We gon’ hit 'em all
First to score
We gon’ hit 'em all
We gon’ hit 'em hard

Running cocaina back and forth
Copped the bag of salt
E S to the G N
I’m the boss dropped the package off
Coming for the murder, masks is off
Bitch you took a loss
Fuck the DEA we shook ‘em off
Bitch we shook ‘em off
Shook and twist the jars
And dope on my mommas stove top
By the time she came back from church boy
I bet you I had an O stocked
In the middle of the muhfuckin'
Day, no more yayo
Boy I done sold out
Nigga pull up in a mothafuckin’ foreign on
Forgies that’ll bring them hoes out
Like yeah nigga, niggas keep beggin’
I pull out a pump in
This bitch like I’m blizzard
Yeah, empty your pockets, we robbin’
These bitches got all of us trippin’
Nigga, it’s better to ask for
Forgiveness than ask for permission
You catchin’ the hollow, I’m catchin’you
Slippin', I did it alone
Only God as my witness
My nigga got off cause we
Tied up the witness
And made sure the nigga couldn't
Show up in court
You know the business, them niggas
Find out that you snitchin'
Them niggas gon' be at your throat
Everyday Halloween niggas will go
Trick or treatin'
With two tweny-three at your door
Flippin' a check off this rappin'
Go back to the trap and put that
In the weed and the blow like

I just caught a body like a week ago
These hatin' niggas want attention
I don't see 'em though
You talk that gangsta shit
But I just can't believe it bro
We pull up with them shots
Knockin' out that European
S to the K to the E-M-E
Callin' here EMT after I empted this clip
I sold my dope right on CMT, I'm at the ING
Know I'm as weird as it gets
Chuck Taylor told me it's fuck haters
So I say fuck 'em and
Bury these niggas in pit's
Rolley on wrist, no toc or no
Tic, your girl on my dick
Man come get your bitch
Niggas think this a rap now
I might back down and come try your luck
Riders with me be wired up
They ridin' with me till the tyres bust
Haters talkin', but they better cool it
Before that nigga Crooked get fired up
Lay you out like my Balmains
You gotta play 'em straight
He get ironed up
Drinkin' lean till I'm high enough
I don't give a fuck about nigga
I ain't squashin' shit, I
Won't call it off
I just handle mine like a man nigga
I'm on frontline with these bands nigga
Need a chair, I can't stand niggas
We do walk-by's and hop outs
Got slidin' doors on that van nigga