2pac - Fake Ass Bithes lyrics

*little kid* tell me about these fake a** b**hes 2pac- Look here little n***a Most of these n***az be b**hes 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 n***az, keep your eyes on these b**hes They love to g a n***a young dumb and gettin riches What the f** you think a trick is n***a n***a done stick and wet his dick And then get tricked out all his riches by a - b**h! 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 n***a toss her It's like a motherf**in priveledge So don't give up your conversation, give that b**h your 7 digits When she call ya, ask that tramp wha**up And if she is the type of n***a hang up, worrrd up And let that b**h 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 a** b**hes (god, damn! you can't just hit them n***az 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) x2 I can't stand fake a** b**hes Lyin a** n***az and you punk a** snitches 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 s** my dick So how about hittin a motherf**er on my pager Busy now b**h but you can give me the p**y 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 dick and now you get the pistol honey (b**h) So get the bozack, knockin hoes back, keep my dough stacked So where the motherf**in hoes at? Punk n***az can't fade the mack, livin fat Gettin paid to rap, it's like that, you motherf**in b**hes Yeah, yeah that's my motto She educated a whole bunch of you old raggedy-a** n***az So y'all take that sh** back to y'all camp and uhh You sleep on that there, it's like (chorus) x2 Oh you too n***a, don't think we ain't talkin bout your punk a** You old fake a** n***a Standin there wearin all them pendletons and khakis and all that You soft as a motherf**in grape Ain't this a motherf**in b**h I can see right through your flower a** Some of these n***az is b**hes 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 a** b**h out there And there's plenty of em You probably got one sittin next to you right now Bobbin his fake a** head to this, dope a** sh** that he listenin to Fake a** motherf**in b**h, die in ninety-four