2Pac - Fake A** Bi***es Lyrics |
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Lyrics: [little kid] Tell me about these fake ass bi***es [2Pac] Look here little nigga Most of these niggaz be bi***es too but you'll never hear that side of the story So uhh, we finna do this sh** like this It's like I tell my niggaz, keep your eyes on these bi***es They love to G a nigga young dumb and gettin riches What the f*** you think a trick is nigga Nigga done stick and wet his d*** and then get tricked out all his riches by a -- bi***! I'm here to school you to the rules of the game, it'll cost ya Think you alla that just cause she let a nigga toss her It's like a motherf***in priveledge So don't give up your conversation, give that bi*** your 7 digits When she call ya, ask that tramp whassup And if she hesitate, nigga hang up, worrrd up And let that bi*** meditate to the dial tone And call me when you're ready to bone, and it's on A motherf***ing mack tonight Stay that stay strapped cause my raps is tight You f***in punks, I hate you snitches Went against the grain and the game to be fake ass bi***es (God, damn! You can't just hit them niggaz with that game and expect them to accept it; girl your heard me it gets skanless. But we gonna kick this sh** like this here) [Chorus: 2Pac] I can't stand fake ass bi***es Lyin ass niggaz and you punk ass snitches [repeat 2X] Time to show these bustas who's boss Run up on a real motherf***er and get tossed The game is deep, and thicker than a motherf***in jimmy Broke hoes runnin round yellin 'Gimme!' I can't stand it, hoes talkin bout they got a man sh** all I wanted her to do is suck my d*** So how about hittin a motherf***er on my pager Busy now bi*** but you can give me the p**** later Fly how I fade her, played her like a game of Sega f***in with the player that done made her, huh And I ain't sleepin caught you creepin for my money Got the d*** and now you get the pistol honey (bi***) So get the bozack, knockin hoes back, keep my dough stacked So where the motherf***in hoes at? Punk niggaz can't fade the mack, livin fat Gettin paid to rap, it's like that, you motherf***in bi***es Yeah, yeah that's my motto She educated a whole bunch of you old raggedy-ass niggaz So y'all take that sh** back to y'all camp and uhh you sleep on that there, it's like [Chorus 2X] Oh you too nigga, don't think we ain't talkin bout your punk ass You old fake ass nigga Standin there wearin all them Pendletons and khakis and all that You soft as a motherf***in grape Ain't this a motherf***in bi*** I can see right through your flower ass Some of these niggaz is bi***es too, man I tell ya It's gonna be harder and harder to be a Thug in ninety-fo' but we gonna do this sh** Y'all take this sh** and you play this sh** for every single fake ass bi*** out there And there's plenty of em You probably got one sittin next to you right now Bobbin his fake ass head to this, dope ass sh** that he listenin to Fake ass motherf***in bi***, die in ninety-four More songs from this artist Comments for this song |
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