F*cked Up Lyrics - Hood Morning - Game

[Hook: Game] 

These niggas got me fucked up [X4] 

These niggas got me, I think 

These niggas got me fucked up 

[Verse 1: Game] 

I be on the block with that chrome boy, Postin' up with my home boy 

Leanin' on the 2 tone boy, What you want for them zones boy 

10-5, 10-4, put it on the scale, add a little more 

Take a shot of that 'tron boy, bag it up and then gone boy 

They givin' (?) out, watch yourself on that phone boy 

They gave me seven (?), mama singing that song boy 

We gettin' money baby, we gettin' cash money 

Stuntin' like im Birdman, sittin' on my cash 

120 on the dash, 4 (?) on the wheeeeels 

Paper stacking too long boy, blowing cheech and that chong boy 

Better watch that tone boy, headshots to that dome boy 

[Hook X 2] 

[Verse 2 - Menace] 

Think a nigga trip the way I walk around 

Gotta keep that pistol on my hip to lay them haters down 

Gotta keep them bitches on my dick then I bring (?) around 

Paper stash gon' break em down, fuck 'em hard don't make a sound 

I'm all about that trap boy, ride around with that pistol 

Gotta keep the bitch in my lap boy, hater niggas, come get ya 

Made my niggas (?), my niggas clean, we do it (?), try to intervene 

Thats suicide fuckin' with my team, I'm blowing clouds and I'm 'bout the cream 

Yeah, and I'm bout that shit, we full of chips, and I'm (?) hoes 

Y'all full of shit, not suckin' the O's, I'm too legit and I'm tippin' 4's 

Niggas really want it, bitches lookin' silly for it 

Really kill the niggas for it, niggas lookin' real important 

[Hook X 2] 

[Verse 3 - Game] 

Say boy, ever had a bitch all up in your crib 

Stickin' that dick all up in the ribs 

Then she tell fuck niggas where you live 

And now they all up in your shit 

Flippin' matresses over, turnin' couches sideways 

They thinkin' crime pays 

Got a choppa 

For the niggas that don't understand how the fuck we ope- 

-rate and anyway get back on top of my paper chase 

Kush burnin', smell the dragon, 29's, been had 'em 

Niggas take shots, then runnin' high 

We'll find their ass, Bin Ladin 

Me and Mike in the Benz wagon, better watch your block boy 

Purple clouds of that Pepe Lepue, I'm gone of that Ciroc boy 

Clipped up to that pop boy, holdin' on to that knot boy 

Palms grippin' that Glock boy, we comin' back for them yachts boy 

[Hook X 2] 

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