Fakin’

[Featuring: Thi'sl]

Verse 1 (Lecrae):

I'm riding round and I’m getting’ it; they riding round pretendin’

I been had it, I been done, 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 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 killin, ain't doin’

Half them thangs you say you doin’, but 116 we stay true an’

Ain't dope dealin’, ain't Po pimpin’, talkin’ ‘bout my own folk killin’

We on that Jesus soul healin’, so serious, gorillas

Wild ain’t we, can't tame us, been changed, can’t change us

1:16 – You can’t shame us. Live that truth; you can't blame us

Hook:

I heard him say he bought the block

(Fakin!)

In his song he say he gansta’ but he not

(Fakin!)

Say he makin’ money, cashin’ big checks

(Fakin!)

While his chain leavin’ green on his neck

(Fakin!)

I’m not impressed

So I guess that make you, yes that make you

That make you a faker!

Verse 2 (Thi’sl):

He was all juiced up, thought he was Tupac

‘Til ‘dem 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’s 2 Chains

He bought that big-league cannon, wrapped it ‘round a 300

Now matter how you put it, boy, that’s still a 300

Stop that fakin’ and the flatchin’ cut it off

Frontin’ like your paper longer than the Power Ball

He think he Scarface, guess he ain’t seen the movie

Keep on fakin’ ‘til you face down in a Jacuzzi

With some killas in you room with some real guns

That don’t make noise and ain’t plastic but they real guns

[Hook]

Verse 3 (Lecrae):

Real recognize real; introduce ya’ self

Careful with that cannon boy; you might just shoot ya’ self

Somebody wake em’, tell em’ to stop fakin’

Before they end up lyin’ in the woods buck naked

These killas fulla’ 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 prayin’, “Lord forgive em’ ‘cause they lyin’ like Mufasa

They got these eight’ graders with they eyes on a choppa

I pray the Lord save ‘em ‘fo He drop ‘em and make ‘em stop it

[Hook]