Just yesterday, Oct. 7, the Game leaked a new track "Married to the Game" from his upcoming album Blood Moon: Year of the Wolf, and today, he's leaked yet another new track. The appropriately titled "Hit 'Em Hard" features furious guest verses from Freddie Gibbs and Skeme, and a hook from Bobby Shmurda. If the Game keeps leaking songs at this pace, he's going to end up giving us the entire album before it's even released.
You can check out the Game's "Hit 'Em Hard" featuring Bobby Schmurda, Freddie Gibbs, and Skeme right here:
Blood Moon: Year of the Wolf is set for release next week, Oct. 14. It will be the Game's first album since 2012's Jesus Piece, and will feature guest spots from Yo Gotti, 2 Chainz, Soulja Boi, T.I., Lil Wayne, Chris Brown, French Montana, Jeezy, Ty Dolla Sign, and Tyga, among many others.
You can check out the lyrics right here, as transcribed by Rap Genius:
[Verse 1: Game]
I got a black mac and a six pack
I don't work out, I don't chit chat
My b***h 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
N***as stop being loyal when the money gone
Still walk in this b***h, I'm a hundred strong
One chain on my neck, feel like I got a hundred on
Look at my flow on this b***h
Platinum and gold on my wrist
Money, the accountant be countin' it
That's why I'm throwin' this s**t
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 n***as be shootin’
[Hook: Bobby Shmurda]
Running n***as down back and forth
I’m like pass the torch
Blast it off
N***as 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
[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Running cocaine 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
B***h you took a loss
Fuck the DEA we shook ‘em off
B***h 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 month, f***in' there ain’t no more yayo, boy I done sold out
N***a pull up in a mothaf***in’ foreign on 40’s that’ll bring them h**s out
Like yeah n***a, n***as keep beggin’, I pull out a pump in this b***h like I’m blizzard
Yeah, empty your pockets, we robbin’, these b****es got all of us trippin’
N***a, 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 n***a got off cause we tied up the witness, and made sure the n***a couldn't show up in court
You know the business, them n***as find out that you snitchin', them n***as gon' be at your throat
Everyday Halloween n***as will go trick or treatin', with two children at your door
Flippin', take off this rappin', go back to the trap and put that in the weed and the blow like
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Skeme]
I just caught a body like a week ago
These hatin' n***as want attention, I don't see 'em though
You talk that gangsta s**t, 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 emptied this clip
I sold my dope right on CMT, I'm at the ING, know I'm as weird as it gets
[?] told me it's f**k haters, so I say f**k 'em and bury these n***as in pits
Rolley on wrist, no toc or no tic, your girl on my d**k, man come get your b***h
N***as 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 n***a Crooked get fired up
Lay you out like my boy Maze, you gotta play 'em straight, he get ironed up
Drinkin' lean till I'm high enough, I don't give a f**k about none n***a
I ain't squashin' s**t, I won't call it off, I just handle mine like a man n***a
I'm on frontline with these bands n***a
Need a chair, I can't stand n***as
We do walk-by's and hop outs
Got slidin' doors on that van n***a
[Hook]
