Fake Ass b*tches lyrics

by

Spice 1


[Intro: little kid]
Tell me about these fake ass b*tches

Look here little n*gga
Most of these n*ggas be b*tches too
But you'll never hear that side of the story
So uhh, we finna do this sh*t like this

[Verse 1]
It's like I tell my n*ggas, keep your eyes on these b*tches
They love to G a n*gga young dumb and gettin' riches
What the f*ck you think a trick is n*gga
n*gga done stick and wet his di*k
And then get tricked out all his riches by a -- b*tch!
I'm here to school you to the rules of the game, it'll cost ya
Think you all that just 'cause she let a n*gga toss her
It's like a motherf*ckin' privilege
So don't give up free conversation, give that b*tch your 7 digits
When she call ya, ask that little tramp whassup
And if she hesitate n*gga hang up, worrrd up
And let that b*tch meditate to the dial tone
And call me when you're ready to bone, and it's on
A motherf*ckin' mack tonight
Stay back stay strapped cause my raps is tight
You f*ckin' punks, I hate you snitches
Went against the grain and the game to be fake ass b*tches
[Interlude]
(God, damn! You can't just hit them n*ggas with that game
And expect them to accept it; girl your heard me it gets scandalous
But we gonna kick this sh*t like this here)

[Hook]
I can't stand fake ass b*tches
Lyin' ass n*ggas and you punk ass snitches
I can't stand fake ass b*tches
Lyin' ass n*ggas and you punk ass snitches

[Verse 2]
Time to show these bustas who's boss
Run up on a real motherf*cker and get tossed
The game is deep, and thicker than a motherf*ckin' jimmy
Broke hoes runnin' round yellin' "Gimme!"
I can't stand it, hoes talkin' bout they got a man
sh*t all I wanted her to do is suck my di*k
So how about hittin' a motherf*cker on my pager
Busy now b*tch but you can give me the pus*y later
Fly how I fade her, played her like a game of Sega
f*ckin' with the player that done made her, huh
And I ain't sleepin' caught you creepin' for my money
Got the di*k and now you get the pistol honey (b*tch)
So get the bozack, knockin' hoes back, keep my dough stacked
So where the motherf*ckin' hoes at?
Punk n*ggas can't fade the mack, livin' fat
Gettin' paid to rap, it's like that, you motherf*ckin' b*tches
[Interlude]
Yeah, yeah that's my motto
She educated a whole bunch of you old raggedy-ass n*ggas
So y'all take that sh*t back to y'all camp and uhh
You sleep on that there, it's like

[Hook]
I can't stand fake ass b*tches
Lyin' ass n*ggas and you punk ass snitches
I can't stand fake ass b*tches
Lyin' ass n*ggas and you punk ass snitches
I can't stand fake ass b*tches
Lyin' ass n*ggas and you punk ass snitches
I can't stand fake ass b*tches
Lyin' ass n*ggas and you punk ass snitches

[Outro]
Oh you too n*gga, don't think we ain't talkin' bout your punk ass
You old fake ass n*gga
Standin' there wearin' all them Pendletons and khakis and all that
You soft as a motherf*ckin' grape
Ain't this a motherf*ckin' b*tch
I can see right through your flower ass
Some of these n*ggas is b*tches too, man I tell ya
It's gonna be harder and harder to be a Thug in ninety-fo' (I can't stand fake ass b*tches)
But we gonna do this sh*t
Y'all take this sh*t and you play this sh*t for every single
Fake ass b*tch out there (I can't stand fake ass b*tches)
And there's plenty of 'em
You probably got one sittin' next to you right now (I can't stand fake ass b*tches)
Bobbin' his fake ass head to this, dope ass sh*t that he listenin' to (I can't stand fake ass b*tches)
Fake ass motherf*ckin' b*tch, die in ninety-four
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