"Fakin" lyrics

"Fakin"

(Goddamn, BJ with another one) Alright, come on

I grew up takin' shit, flash out, I might face a bitch (I might)
This a SRT, I stomp the gas, 12 ain't gon' play with this
Them niggas took my brother, I can't let 'em get away with this
We in this car to kill, get out the V with all that fakin' shit (His bitch ass)
I was tryna go on hits before I made a hit (You know that)
He had his gun and let his homie die, that boy's a major bitch (Your bitch ass)
We fresh off a drill, got blood all on my hands like I was paintin' shit
After shootouts, I'd go and talk to God like, "Am I made for this?"

Last nigga dissed the gang, they found his dumb ass with his ass out (His dumb ass)
Fuck all the opps, I spin they block until I pass out ('Til I pass out)
I lost my dogs, it hurt me deep, I wanna crash out
That boy's a bitch, I see straight through him like a glass house
On the road to riches with my Glock, I took the fast route
Four months ago, I was just broke, I got a bag now
You get too close, the car start beepin' when I back out
Got hit up with a switch and he was shakin' like he lagged out
Got a short temper, play with me, I'm quick to take it there
Dead on the scene, so the hospital, he ain't make it there
Bounce out the V, aim at his head like I was tapin' hair
Hit his ass so many times, just pull the plug, he ain't gon' make the chair
I'm from the 'Raq, I'm blessed, we usually don't make it here
Play with the gang, your ass gon' die, you lose your face in here
Three got the wheel, gon' get us home, I got my faith in him
Got the same love for my dog, but when it's Brick, boy, I don't play 'bout him
Long live SB, don't say that name, boy, I'll spray 'bout him
Long live Mook Money, shoot broad day, I'll catch a case 'bout him
Long live Mike, bitch, I won't see another day 'bout him
Forever tossin' for the gang, I see the opps and I'm gon' spray at them

I grew up takin' shit, flash out, I might face a bitch
This a SRT, I stomp the gas, 12 ain't gon' play with this
Them niggas took my brother, I can't let 'em get away with this
We in this car to kill, get out the V with all that fakin' shit (Your bitch ass)
I was tryna go on hits before I made a hit (For real)
He had his gun and let his homie die, that boy's a major bitch (His bitch ass)
We fresh off a drill, got blood all on my hands like I was paintin' shit
After shootouts, I'd go and talk to God like, "Am I made for this?"

(Goddamn, BJ with another one)


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