Faking The Funk

They faking

How the fuck you a stepper?

You have no pressure, where's your Drac' in the trunk?

How the fuck you a stepper?

You ain't got opps

Aye, these **** faking the funk

How the fuck you a stepper?

Claim you a shooter, but your Drac' in the trunk?

He must catch his plays in the bed, 'cause the shit you serving is bunk

You ever had to get out that Mille? Then you know that bitch like a punk

My ex got locked and couldn't send me no bites, I can't lie, that shit felt like a slump

Baby so fine and she came with some hips, I told her come bring me that rump

Baby got brain, and her shit a masterpiece, that shit'll make you say "Uh"

Kim K that, gimme 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 loose leaf

Back to back rolling up Swishers, I might come through in a fiscal

I feel like a ref, all blue, baby, just know I'm official

I gave him a chance, then that lil' **** blow it, and you'll think the pair was a whistle

She hopped in the car and did some raw, and your simp ass still gon' kiss her

Claim he ain't stun the bitch, but he find out, I bet he gonna kill her

Lil' bro temper small like Biggie, Lamb' truck hogging the lane like piggies

I know h told you he having, but baby, he faking the funk

You asked for some money, he told you he got it in cash, he faking the funk

That **** ain't got it in cash, he lying to your ass, buddy a chump

I hate when they yap like they up, putting on a front but broke as fuck

These **** faking the funk, I call this shit faking the funk

Man, take your hand out your pocket, you ain't have no fire

These **** faking the clutch

These **** rapping about pain, ain't went through hurt, these **** faking the crutch

'Fore Ya ride with these fake-ass ****, I'll go take me a bus

Ask Chris Tucker, honeybone hit, had them all gone in the Rush Hour

Man, them boys stinky as fuck, them hoes had trap so sour

Ninety-nine shots in the clip, I'm a cover boy just like Jae Crowder

Baby, a stain, she make you say "Howdy"

Trail her off of the hoop, I'ma shoot if you foul me

Don't put your hands, pussy-ass ****, we just linking up

We, we gon' link up, we gon' squash everything, and we gon' hoop

But if one of you bitch-ass **** foul me, I'ma step back

And James Harden one of you bitch-ass ****, that's on granny, ****

But guess what though? These **** faking the funk

Claim he up, these **** fake as the fuck

He faking, he broke, he barely making it, on God

That's why he mad on my page, commenting under all my shit, saying this and that

He fake, he broke, he ain't got no motion

That's why he keep calling out and arguing with you, you don't get what's goin' on?

Get that fake, broke-ass out your house, baby, and come over here with the Clovers

I'm telling you, we gon', we gon' show you why these ****

These **** faking the funk, like everything real over here

Them **** is not real, them **** is fake

They jewelry faking the funk, them **** is bap yap

These **** is lying to y'all

These **** faking the funk

On Granny, they watches fake

I can put this shit on my PawPaw

They clothes fake, I know they lying

It's like I know they lying to y'all, like

It's know way they not lying to y'all

I seen this shit with my own eyes

'Cause if he was telling the truth like, why y'all arguing?

Why did he say he had it in cash, then when you asked him where he was at, he disappeared?

That don't even make sense, he's lying to you

Then he say he went to sleep

How the fuck you go to sleep and you woke back up broke?

Bitch-ass ****