Lyrics

But I love her though! This the part the DJs gonna kill on the intro So sad, so sad, so sad That chick ain't yours You mighta fucked that girl You mighta said you love that girl But she belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing So nigga what you frontin' for? Ey nigga what you frontin' for? She belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing I don't be cuffin' these hoes I just be bustin these hoes I be finessin' for dough That's just the way that it go Too real nigga in the feel nigga Porsche nine eleven with the wood grain creeper Drop top boy I ain't tryna save money It's a damn shame that you tryna save honey She just wanna roam Give a nigga dome Without an insecure nigga blowin' up her phone Where you at, who you with, whole lotta questions Got her in a chicken wing no it's not wrestlin' Super fly nigga, punk nigga hold the ropes Baby come through for this body slam, whoah She ain't under arrest, let the girl free Let her come out and fuck with a real g H-O-S-T at the crib, power Jet jacuzzi, we gettin' dirty in the shower That chick ain't yours You mighta fucked that girl You mighta said you love that girl But she belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing So nigga what you frontin' for? Ey nigga what you frontin' for? She belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing A crack star turned rap star I'm that punk We went to jail and turned Allahu Akbar Did it for protection I did it with affection Hit it with that good ol' long hard erection Shawty ask 'Why you such a motherfukin' playa?' Imma text you the answer I'm gone baby, later Out yo door to get bread When you come home there's no food still you fed Up get it, up live it Readin' books like a sucker Your girl sound asleep 'cause a real nigga fucked her You reach for the booty and she tell you don't touch her You put the pillow on your face and yell 'Oh brother' She don't like flowers or movie dates She like my dick in her mouth and gun on my waist One shot empty it out she lovin' the taste That's the shit to put a smile on her face That chick ain't yours You mighta fucked that girl You mighta said you love that girl But she belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing So nigga what you frontin' for? Ey nigga what you frontin' for? She belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing Thought you had a wife huh Busy trickin' tryna change that whole life huh But that don't stop her from creepin' every night huh Shoulda knew that that bitch wasn't right bruh How could you wife her Hov done had her Ab done had her We all hit it player you ain't the only batter Yeah you her man but you don't even matter If you knew the shit we did you'd probly stab her Then turn around and take her back anyway Knowin' we could have that bitch any way Misisionary, doggy style, any day Don't worry, crack a smile, you'll be OK! So sad, so sad, so sad So sad, so sad, so sad That chick ain't yours You mighta fucked that girl You mighta said you love that girl But she belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing So nigga what you frontin' for? Ey nigga what you frontin' for? She belongs to the game And when she's with me I let her do her thing So sad, so sad, so sad So sad, so sad, so sad So sad, so sad, so sad So sad, so sad, so sad
Writer(s): Damian Ashmeade, Young Lito, Roland Collins, David Scott Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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