Ima runner mucka
They say that’s a bad motha-shut yo mouth
Everytime i bring the ruckus
Bust till my lung is busted
Bust till i travel into space, that remains undiscovered
Hieroglyphics is the rap government
And you can get indited if you don’t throw up your hands and punk
Yo b#tch
And i’m on my sh#t
Run it b#tch
None of y’all weak m#th*rf#ck*rs can run with this
The god of the audiobox
Whatever comes out of your mouth
I slaughter while the audience watch
Under the order of the lord of hip hop
Grand mic master, the hiero rules
Tongue spit god sh#t, they lose
You on some young sh#t, the pharaoh’s back
I spit black rap
All that sh#t you be talking
That’s fake
All that frontin on the camera
That’s fake
We stick to the real
That’s fake
You on that b#llsh#t, in other words
That’s fake {2x}
I’m hard body with the bars
And i’m caught up with the calls
And the audience applauds
I don’t need to chains
I don’t need no brains
I don’t need gold grills
I don’t need no fame
To flaunt around me
I’m confident but they call me cocky
These are the ones that make me reply with a child please
You don’t know nothing about me
But when my mouthpiece squeeze the crowd please
I’m outtie
Rap sorcerer, black author, west coast
Go off track onto East Oakland
Mad author, gat pointed to a cat
Back off of the magical author walt williams
Scholar with the audible auto flow
Regarded, the nautical spit cannons
On every article, yo i don’t give a f#ck
It’s rap god, L to yo old heam
Red, black and green
The team is here
All that sh#t you be talking
That’s fake
All that frontin on the camera
That’s fake
We stick to the real
That’s fake
You on that b#llsh#t, in other words
That’s fake {2x}
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
Casual Lyrics – Fake