down them n***** fell out, so I'm ridin' with the girls 'Cause they got mo' heart, than them fake a** dudes They send no letters, no books, and no money
you can't stop this from the West Indies You can tell I'm a lyrical prophet from the words spoken and broken up In these books and scrolls that I unfold
grab the fucking gat The first pocket that's fat the Tec is to his back Word is bond, I'm a smoke him yo don't fake no moves Treat it like boxing, stick
up this can't be real lookin' in the paper, Shaq's about to make a hundred mil somebody smack me, it's gotta be fake 20,000 square foot crib on the back
them bitch ass niggas screamin' like a fuckin' retard Lyrically I come off like ink alarms Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my
LL Cool J}] You ice grilling, your blood spilling Tell me little homey, what's the reason? (That can lead to Freeway squeezing) What you faking for? 24
stands I should have played yours The moving bar to my moms get the news to bar Same time Jake taking me out Same line gonna try and fake me out Sitting
) (A few jump offs, some Dom's, some beer, and the crack) I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down (I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books
harder De automatic, get de automatic Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it De automatic, get de automatic Tonight a rapper gwan die Ha hah, fake
I don't wanna talk I stay true blue, I'm hopin' it's you too I got the fever for the flava of a book book So it's back to the block time to play It's
2 Dope Rear rear fuck that buck pat dun dun dun dun Psychopathic hatchets swinging catching a flinging bloody bacon Body dropping bitches singing preacher preaching fuckin faking
) I guessed them goals that we set in the day, they actually came to be. (yup yup) but now I'm lookin at a black white paper, and with a whole book of
you think that you're having fun Fame the game Get on the plane and get off into the limousine To the early morning show everyday routine Make up fake
, street connections Sam bit it, I'm not it, the kid was runnin his mouth Order in the court, did you or did not shoot this man? What I heard, booking
phalanges people think I sold Saturn im soulfull put pink diamonds on the son of mother Magdalene I hate fakes that's so fake they try to cut a gram
And I?ma buss till my clips outta business And there won't till I down all the witness See I?mma do you bitches clean by da book Wit no murder weapons
bye Boom bye bye to a sound bwoy in The shot ti fly now that sound bwoy lie dead Two shots dead to dem chin, enemy or friend Fake the funk, I put the
the flow ha ha ha Young mullah baby, and the monsta on the hook ha ha, swizzy! Young mullah baby, streeetzz... [Lil Wayne:] Damn I hate a old fake ass