Lyrics:
these real ass facts upon the wax
Mass communication minus fakin' the jax
So relax all the gods will make you crumble and fall
Keepin' you on the run
give me a call G I won't deceive thee
These fools be shakin' best believe they're fakin'
Just tryin' to get a grip of all the money you're makin'
This
up the name
Got this pump fakers fakin' i ain't trippin' bout these scums
I be ballin' fast dribblin' like allen iverson
Is that your bitch, she be
to read his latest poem for us
Hit you with the funk it's like, "who cut the provolone?"
Government officials put taps on my mobile phones
Nations
give me a call G I won't deceive thee
These fools be shakin' best believe they're fakin'
Just tryin' to get a grip of all the money you're makin'
This
ain't fuckin' with y'all
People waitin', some be hatin', I'll be shakin', they'll be fakin'
Waitin' for me to fall but yet they comin' off the wall
Till
Nigga are you dumb? Silent like a nun
With a bun, are u scared or some? Why did he just run?
All of the time and y’all niggas be fakin'
I want me some
to get crazy
Swing it left swing it right swing it back and to the front ha
No takin' or the fakin' cause we givin' what you want ha
Pure bread born
fakin' like I had it, nigga
With this rap, been at it, nigga
Hear this shit, and add it, nigga
Real as fuck, no cappin' with us
We them fuckin' captains,
Hoes still keep tryin' to cuff me, I'm shakin' em
Aiming for the top, ain't no stopping me, I'm getting it
Never trust a nigga with a mask, they fakin'
shit way too crazy, ay, you do not amaze me
Ay, I blew cool from AC, ay, Obama just paged me
Ay, I don't fabricate it, ay, most of y'all be fakin'
Ay,
Pull out the four-five, and kill him motherfuckin dead
Pump his ass with lead
Never fakin moves, motherfucker run the jewels
Buckwild, blowin niggas
Keith is on the stereo, grand imperial
Funk material, take you to the burial
Keith is wheelin, what more can I do?
Booin your crew off the stage and find
back to the basics
Nigga took my swag I ain't mad I embrace it
Don't believe the 'Gram it's a whole lotta fakin'
A bag or the clout, what the fuck you
more of fakin' devotion when soldiers turnin' it out
My congregation is caught up in bein' real, no doubt
I'm the provider for them, can't be around
affection for that woman that stay with me
You supposed to be my homie, why you fuckin' and fakin'?
And then I gotta hear from someone else
You selfish man
home the bacon, ya'll fakin'
Can't replicate my motive, my rhyme style is potent
Poetry in motion, we keep on driving forward
Can't stop us, lyrically
the seasoning paprika
Eureka for the weaker, and smoke the reefer
Dribble up the funk in the beaker
And, yes, about to say ?speaker'
It leaks in your ears
in what I be grippin'.
Dippin' in the Benz, zippin'.
Pass all you haters, fakin'
Runnin' 'round, seein' real players imitatin'.
Breakin'
on your block
Then break it down we playin' Tetris
A.M. to the P.M., P.M. to the A.M. funk
Piss out your per diem, now you gotta hate 'em funk
If I quit
do the extras
Pull up on your block, then break it down: we playin' Tetris
AM to the PM, PM to the AM, funk
Piss out your per diem, you just gotta
girls who bore me
Throw the booth hit the matress, nigga you lack this
Fakin jacks like an actress
The more the time orgy, the more the rhyme'll be
If she on that same shit
That lil mami yeah, I know she ain't fakin'
Her man can't give her what she wants
No all he do is keeping her waiting
He wish
imitation
Last track Drake'n I see these niggas still fakin'
But it's cool though
Act hard imaginary dog like you Blue though
At this point I ain't even
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