Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No Such Thing As Free , by - Yelawolf. Release date: 28.03.2019
Song language: English
No Such Thing As Free |
| Peep me in a Jeep two deep |
| It’s just me and my heat, y’all wanna take anything, leave boy sleep |
| No such thing as free, uh |
| Four act tough but they ain’t got shit on me (Woo) |
| Rappers all good but they ain’t got shit on me |
| Trunk music |
| Shit, you can bump to it |
| Pull her up to it |
| Try me one time and you can’t undo it |
| They ain’t got shit on me |
| Trunk music, huh |
| Rappers all good but they ain’t got shit on me |
| (Motherfuckers need to quit talking all that crazy shit |
| How much girls, drugs they got |
| Give a fuck about none of that shit) |
| Ayy, I don’t care how much dope you selling |
| You should care more about the hoes that you telling |
| Dirt, leather soft, I’m repping |
| Always gotta ride with a weapon |
| Spent too much time outside with the felons |
| Daddy was an outlaw, ride with the eightball |
| Guns in the ride, we ain’t talking about paintball |
| Don’t mean I won’t get in the paint |
| Know last rapper that I came for got mangled (Got mangled) |
| Left him bloody in the streets, paramedic company |
| That’s a pair of scary crackers, your cup of tea |
| Cunt, you were smiling, try not fuck with me, yeah |
| Yelawolf, black sheep, blacking out on sleep |
| Blackout curtains for the heat |
| Black is what is underneath |
| Try to come swim with the shark but the water is getting too deep |
| And I gotta get in my feast |
| I get ahead of myself when I talk about y’all |
| Like you know I got the skill to compete |
| Still I don’t miss a beat, riding with Pistol Pete |
| Two felonies and a misdeme' |
| Study the folks who tried me before you |
| 'Cause like them you gonna be history |
| Trunk music |
| Shit, you can bump to it |
| Pull her up to it |
| Try me one time and you can’t undo it |
| No such thing as free, uh |
| Trunk music, uh |
| Rappers all cool but they ain’t got shit on me |
| (But they ain’t got shit on dude) |
| Peep me and my bag like a basket of Peeps |
| Off from cocaine and an Advil relief |
| Y’all cannot fool me, boy, I laugh to the bank |
| I’m the shit with the stain |
| Ridin' around in a tank in a tanktop |
| Knife on my leg, hoping one of y’all namedrop |
| Fuck what you heard, we them boys and you ain’t hot |
| Fuck what you heard, we them boys and you ain’t hot |
| Watch 'em pop up out the blue, that’s a Percocet |
| Tryna stay cool but it’s hot in this turtleneck, ooh |
| I hurdle a herd of sheep in my sleep |
| Before I woke up in bed, I took a leak |
| Bedwetter, trendsetter |
| Dead center of the attention and finna get better |
| Turn that pussy into wet weather |
| Is it hailing or it’s meth weather? |
| Why do you inhale it? |
| It make the sex better |
| Huffing a line, covered in hives |
| Walking on glass, breaking the ice |
| Money got me rolling like dice |
| Molly got me rolling like dice |
| Paid the price, I gave my life |
| My heart and soul, I won the fight |
| We on a roll, I’m on a roll |
| I’m rolling by, four front tires, so inspired |
| Raised the bar, I’m on the rise |
| It’s trunk music |
| Shit, you can bump to it |
| Pull her up to it |
| Try me one time and you can’t undo it |
| No such thing as free, uh |
| Trunk music, uh |
| Rappers all cool but they ain’t got shit on me |
| (Yeah, check out my boots, bitch |
| Hahaha… yeah) |
| I just left a thrift shop with a Ziploc full of new wings |
| Got a few things for the miss, I got no bling on the wristwatch |
| That denim vest, put that top rock of that vintage New York hip-hop |
| Where the funk at? |
| Y’all lost that |
| Too much trap, not enough style |
| Too much gold, not enough slow |
| Too much blow, not enough pot |
| Two months ago now it’s old school |
| I’m like, fuck that shit, no, it’s not |
| Look, you don’t want it with the posse, pussy |
| Not me, try me, push me |
| Pull up on your fucking block, we mopping |
| Got you sloppy, gushy |
| Mafia, mafia, Slumerican is the mafia |
| And I am not being cocky but Slumerican is unstoppable |
| Give a fuck 'bout that Glock you tote, even my mama got pistols |
| You should be more afraid of Mama Wolf if you let that clip go |
| Gang, gang |
| Never snorted Columbian, bang, bang |
| But I snorted enough glue to knock a few screws loose |
| And the rails up off my train |
| That Ozzy Osbourne, why’s he always going? |
| Lying ass rappers, not a rider, boy |
| I’m a rider for the music I perform |
| Got another tour, know what I did it for? |
| Family handing me bills |
| Enemies handing me grills |
| Can I be young and concealed? |
| Know I’m an animal seer |
| Only presented with thrills |
| So don’t pretend to be real |
| Rappers are getting you killed |
| Punking you out of a deal |
| Suckered you out of the bill |
| Then owe the real thing |
| I’m the real thing |
| I will kill dreams |
| Freddy Krueger with the Ruger pumped into you |
| What’s the music? |
| Trunk music |