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Fake b*tches
by
Justina Valentine
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Lyrics
Ya damn right Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low (Burps) fake b*t*hes make me gassy Oh yeah Yo yo yo Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low Real rap, real chat when I say so Get the bag get the paper get the pesos When she walk by I be like "Hey hoe !" Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low Real rap, real chat whеn I say so Get the bag get thе paper get the pesos She a rat set the trap with some queso I could never twist with a f**k b*t*h Eight pic posed up like a duck b*t*h You a try hard doing too much b*t*h Wish I had a d**k you could come suck b*t*h Turning tricks for a couple bucks b*t*h You a chicken head let me hear you cluck b*t*h f**king with the water thats gon' have you stuck b*t*h Coming for a real one try your luck b*t*h I don't wanna have to take down these hoes The grass is up high but the snakes on the low Screaming she real she the fakest I know Your ass don't giggle cause the cakes are borrowed Ain't a b*t*h breathing who can do it like me Stevie Wonder to a b*t*h acting like they can't see If you wanna get respect, guess you got to be mean All these b*t*hes are my daughters should've take a plan B, uh Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low Real rap, real chat when I say so Get the bag get the paper get the pesos When she walk by I be like "Hey hoe !" Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low Real rap, real chat when I say so Get the bag get the paper get the pesos She a rat set the trap with some queso It's funny how they never mention me like they ain't heard of me But ain't a single b*t*h that they could bring that tried to murder me The way I'm killing sh*t go check my record sure got felonies Not only is she rapping cold but shorty got the melodies How can they make a list of chicks and not even include my name When I'm one of the few who really write and who respect the game And I'm the only one who go bananas when I'm off the brain And all the rules of Hip Hop they used to [?] change Sleeping on me, taking nap, nap, nap, naps But I'm the most ill that's no cap, cap, cap, cap I'm moving to the [?] you're mad, mad, mad, mad And to all my real b*t*hes give a dab, dab, dab, dab There's a few of us that still exist please don't get it twisted We be in the mix, sweet like licorice, kill you with a kiss All you hating b*t*hes still looking sorry And all my real b*t*hes show love like Cardi Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low Real rap, real chat when I say so Get the bag get the paper get the pesos When she walk by I be like "Hey hoe !" Fake b*t*hes, fake love, better lay low Real rap, real chat when I say so Get the bag get the paper get the pesos She a rat set the trap with some queso
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