fake$hit Lyrics

Ay, TV Plug it in!

(Uh, yuh)

Dramatic ass bitch wanna talk about shit that ain't really been up on the form

Look at your vehicle, goofy ass nigga that shit ain't even got a horn (Grrah, Grrah)

Poppin' like corn, my niggas gon' split up them commas

Getting that paper gon' take our momma's to Bahamas

My music key just like a sauna

Walk through this bitch like I ain't got no problem

Flip a bag, flip a swisha, beat that nigga like a kicker

She gon' take a fuckin' picture, she always postin' on Instagram

Music be fire, but she really needed that filter

Fuck what they talkin' bout, fuck what they talkin' bout

Pay for that shit just to take em' out

I got the Glock on my wrist for the fakers now

I just been countin' them blues then I lay them out

Fuck all that fake shit, fuck all your lame shit

Most of my homies just chill with a drac' bitch

Now I be posted on top with that fake shit

I see your chain, if I want it I take it

I got some homeboy that's scared of a crip

Always too nice in the pen he a bitch

I just want make all these tracks and the music

I'm writing on paper, that lyrical shit

I got the voice of a problematic child

Make a motherfucka' wanna walk a mile

Leave my depression and stress in a pile

I got the blade on my hip and that shit come in style

I know this uzi gon' come with a trial

See a fuck nigga and gun his ass down

(Gun his ass down, gun his ass, ayy)

I split my lyrics we goin'

Why do these bitches be hoein'

Sippin' that liquor, that lean that they pourin'

Listen the beats on this track, I be flowin'

Me and my boy got a dream and we soarin'

I gotta cover my mission, no tourin'

Don't come to my crib if your ass gon' be borin'

My nigga, we slide in the morning

I wake up and smoke off a blunt, ain't no warnin' (Yuh)

(Ayy, ain't no warnin' nigga, I smoke whatever the fuck I want)

Ayy, yuh (Yuh)

Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy (Ayy, Ayy)

Dramatic ass bitch wanna talk about shit that ain't really been up on the form

Look at your vehicle, goofy ass nigga that shit ain't even got a horn (Grrah, Grrah)

Poppin' like corn, my niggas gon' split up them commas

Getting that paper gon' take our momma's to Bahamas

My music key just like a sauna

Walk through this bitch like I ain't got no problem

Flip a bag, flip a swisha, beat that nigga like a kicker

She gon' take a fuckin' picture, she always postin' on Instagram

Music be fire, but she really needed that filter

Fuck what they talkin' bout, fuck what they talkin' bout

Pay for that shit just to take em' out

I got the Glock on my wrist for the fakers now

I just been countin' them blues then I lay them out

Fuck all that fake shit, fuck all your lame shit

Most of my homies just chill with a drac' bitch

Now I be posted on top with that fake shit

I see your chain, if I want it I take it

I got some homeboy that's scared of a crip

Always too nice in the pen he a bitch

I just want make all these tracks and the music

I'm writing on paper, that lyrical shit

I got the voice of a problematic child

Make a motherfucka' wanna walk a mile

Leave my depression and stress in a pile

I got the blade on my hip and that shit come in style

I know this uzi gon' come with a trial

See a fuck nigga and gun his ass down

(Gun his ass down, gun his ass, ayy)

I split my lyrics we goin'

Why do these bitches be hoein'

Sippin' that liquor, that lean that they pourin'

Listen the beats on this track, I be flowin'

Me and my boy got a dream and we soarin'

I gotta cover my mission, no tourin'

Don't come to my crib if your ass gon' be borin'

My nigga, we slide in the morning

I wake up and smoke off a blunt, ain't no warnin' (Yuh)

(Ayy, ain't no warnin' nigga, I smoke whatever the fuck I want)