Lincoln "Bar None" Morris - Fakin' - Remix by DJ Official lyrics

[Intro: Lecrae] Fakin', fakin' [Hook: Lecrae] (x2) Pump fakin', I ain't shootin' I ain't k**in, I ain't doin' Half them things you say you doin' But 116 we stay true and they [Verse 1: Lecrae] I'm ridin' around and I'm getting' it, they ridin' 'round pretendin' I been had it, I been done, and I promise that it's all empty They say they ridin' Bugatti's Man, put some babies through college Quit tryna' act like the trap is cool, ‘cause we tired of hearin' that garbage Hey, bags of white, pints of lean I been on dope boys since a teen But this ain't what we meant to be, and y'all don't make no sense to me You pump fakin', ain't shootin', ain't k**in, ain't doin' Half them thangs you say you doin', but 116 we stay true and they Dope dealin', ain't Po pimpin' Talkin' ‘bout my own folk k**in' We on that Jesus soul healin', so serious, gorillas Wild ain't we, can't tame us Been changed, can't change us 116, you can't shame us Live that truth, you can't blame us (I heard 'em...) [Hook] (x2) [Verse 2: Thi'sl] He was all juiced up, thought he was 2Pac ‘Til ‘them boys caught him, hit him with them two shots Now he in the station singin' like he T-Pain The bullets made him lean, now I guess he 2 Chainz He bought that bentley kit and wrapped it ‘round a 300 Now matter how you put it, boy, that's still a 300 Stop that fakin' and the flatchin' dawg, cut it off Frontin' like your paper longer than the Power Ball He think he Scarface, guess he ain't seen the movie (Okay you want to play with us, ok, say hello to my little friend!) Keep on fakin' ‘til you face down in a Jacuzzi With some k**as in you room with some real guns That don't make noise when they blast it but they real guns [Hook] (x2) [Verse 3: Lecrae] Real recognize real, introduce yourself Careful with that cannon boy, you might just shoot your self Somebody wake em', tell em' to stop fakin' Before they end up lyin' in the woods bu*t naked These k**as full of them demons, while you pretendin' you Scarface You ain't really no ghetto boy, why you fakin' that hard face? That just made him furious, somebody call Fishburne Tell these boys in the hood 40 cal hits burn And hell burns hotter, I turn to the Father I'm prayin', “Lord forgive em' ‘cause they lyin' like Mufasa" They got these eighth graders with they eyes on a choppa I pray the Lord save ‘em ‘fo He drop ‘em and make ‘em stop it [Hook] (x2)