Tell me about these fake a** b**hes
[2Pac]
Look here little n***a
Most of these n***as 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***as, 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 — BITCH!
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 hesitate, 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***as 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: 2Pac]
I can’t stand fake a** b**hes
Lyin a** n***as and you punk a** snitches
[repeat 2X]
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***as can’t fade the mack, livin fat
Gettin paid to rap, it’s like that, you motherf**in b**hes
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***as 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