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Pop It FreestyleThe Game

Released: June 28, 2012

Songwriter: The Game

Producer: Lee On The Beats

[Intro]
Hey Wale, get on the phone man, call that nigga Meek Mill
Tell that nigga Meek Mill, get on the phone, call that nigga Boss
Tell Boss, get on the phone, call that nigga French Montana man
Tell the nigga let me hold this beat too man, leggo

[DJ Orator]
Yea yea what's good?
This your man DJ Orator
You got it right here first
Brand new Game freestyle Pop That
Turn it up

[Game]
Uncle Luke, you better tell that ho
I’m the shit bitch and I know you smell that ho
Beat the pussy, I swoll that ho
Lick the cat and then marry that ho
Cop the yeezy, never wear that though
You fuckin’ Kim K, nigga share that ho
Real nigga everywhere I go
You got one, you better marry that ho
She got a fat monkey, camel toe
She Armenian, she call me daddy’o
She like it from the back, no patio
I’m from the 2 Live Crew, her daddy know
I’m fresh as fuck, no flat top
I got flip flops in that black drop
No green screen in my back drop
I got green things in my back poc’
I’m thuggin', welcome back Pac
I’m a mac nigga, no laptop
My bitch ass fat, no ass shots
She get motivated when that cash drop
Don’t call my bitch no stripper, nigga
She’s an exotic dancer that twerk when you tip her, nigga
Amber Rose ain’t got nothin' on my life
Meagan Good ain’t got nothin' on Chyna
And how I know Tyga, how I know Tyga
Meagan Good ain’t got nothin' on Chyna
Shit Japan ain’t got nothin' on Chyna
Wish that was me, nuttin' on Chyna
Damn, there I go again
I ain’t tryna start nothin' by speaking nuttin' on Chyna
Don’t stop, poppin' it, she picked it up and she droppin' it
I like red bones, a little chocolate
And I’m ASAP with that Rocky wrist
And I’m swaggin' and splashin' and fuckin' these hoes
I’m blowin' that Kush and it’s stuck in my clothes
They blowin' my dick till’ I nut in they nose
These niggas they know they can’t fuck with the flow
My Mazzi is cold, my bitches is hot
We walk in the club, she sneak in the Glock
We turnin' it up, off of Peach and Ciroc
With bottles and bottles
Like when does it stop?
With models and models, they know they be fuckin'
She say she a virgin, I know that she bluffin'
I’m knocking the stuffin' out that English muffin
I turn on the oven and whooooo!

Coke boy, like O boy
Got a gold Impala like dope boy
Twerkin' it, workin' it
Like waffle house, I’m servin' it
They play with it, I’m murkin' shit
You jersey’s kid, I’m dunkin’ shit
You square niggas get your circle hit
And it don’t stop, what you twerkin' with
Don’t stop, what you twerkin' with
Don’t stop, what you twerkin' with
Don’t stop, what you twerkin' with

The Game

Jayceon Terrell Taylor was born November 29th, 1979 in Compton, California to two Crip-affiliated gang members. He grew up on Santana Blocc, a Crip-controlled neighborhood, with a large family of half and step siblings. He was hardened by a rough and violent childhood stinting from his parent’s drug use, domestic violence, and family members being killed through gang-related conflicts.

By 2000, a 21-year-old Jayceon Taylor was a member of the Cedar Block Pirus, a Blood-affiliated gang, and dealt drugs on the streets of Compton.

Late on the night of October 1st, 2001, Jayceon was alone in his apartment when the doorbell rang and after opening the door, he was jumped by three

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