They fakin'
How the fuck you a stepper? Havin' no pressure, left your Drac' in the trunk
How the fuck you a stepper? You ain't got opps, you got your (right now, they
fakin' the funk, ayo, Fiji got that sauce)
Oh, that's him? Not like he havin'
Ayy, these niggas fakin' the funk (they fake)
How the fuck you a stepper, claim you a shooter, but your Drac' in the trunk?
(Huh?)
He must catch his plays in the bed (why?) 'cause the shit he servin' is bunk
(bunk-ass)
You ever hop out that Mille (that Millie), then you know that it hit just like a
punk (a 10)
My alien got locked and couldn't send me no boxes, can't lie, that shit felt like a
slump (free Benny)
Baby so fine and she came with some hips, I told her: Come bring me that rump
(bring me that ass, come bring it)
Baby got brain and her shit a masterpiece, that shit'll make you say: Uh (uh)
Pimp K dad, give me a chance, I make the bitch say: Ooh-wee
I got some thick shit from New Orleans, she call me her Juvie
Remember my money was tight, I couldn't even roll up in a LooseLeaf
Back-to-back, rollin' up Swishers (that 'za), I might come through in a fiscal
(come fiscal)
I feel like a ref', all blue, baby, just know I'm official (phew)
I gave him a chance and the lil' nigga blowed it, you would think the pair was a
whistle (was a whistle)
She hopped in the car and did somethin' wrong, is your simp ass still gon' kiss
her? (You dumb)
Claim he ain't stuntin' the bitch, but he found out, I bet he gon' kill her (kill
her, dumbass)
Lil' bro temper small like Biggie (smalls), lamb' truck hoggin' the lane like
piggies (like pigs)
I know that he told you he havin' (what?), but baby, he fakin' the funk (he fakin')
You asked for some money, he told you he got it in cash, he fakin' the funk (he
cap)
That nigga ain't got it in cash, he lyin' to your ass, buddy a chump (he yap)
I hate niggas yap like they up, puttin' on a front but broke as the fuck (on
granny)
These niggas fakin' the funk (they fakin' it), I call this shit fakin' the funk
(it's fake)
Man, take your hand out your pocket, you ain't havin' no fire, these niggas fakin'
the clutch (y'all ain't got no gun)
These niggas rappin' 'bout pain, they ain't went through no hurt, niggas fakin' the
crutch
'Fore Yay ride with these fake-ass niggas, I'll go take me a bus (yuton)
Ask Chris Tucker, cleary bro hit, have 'em all gone in a rush, out (runnin' out)
Man, them boys stinky as fuck, them hoes at the trap so sour
Ninety-nine shots in the clip (huh?), I'm a cover boy like Jae Crowder (clover boy)
Baby a stallion, she make me say: Howdy
Tell the opps: Let's hoop: I'm shoot if you foulin'
Don't put your hands on me, pussy-ass nigga, we just linkin' up (these niggas
fakin' the funk)
We, we gon' link up, we gon' squash everything and we gon' hoop (these niggas
fakin' the funk)
But if one of you bitch-ass niggas foul me (these niggas fakin' the funk)