Fakin’ Like Gangsters lyrics

[Intro: Luke]
Yo this is a record about stars tryna be stars
Stars fakin like gangstas, gangstas fakin like stars
Stars want to be stars but they really pranksters
So I had to go get my man JT cause we the only true two ex-cons on staff
So we could tell it to you straight and not fake
Yo JT, kick it

[Verse One: JT Money]
Picture a n*gga that's raw as me
The motherf*ckin J to T
Tired of n*ggas saying how bad they are
Fronting like ganstas but I call them Gang-stars
Stars that want to be gangsters
But I'm from the real side not like Jeckyll and Hyde
Bad boys on stage, f*ck n*ggas on the street
See now, that ain't me
Example, n*ggas go to concerts pumped up
Next thing you know, the n*ggas gettin chumped up
And they don't look so tough to me
I guess n*ggas ain't the same on and off TV
But not me, I grab the mic and shoot game
And on the streets it's the same motherf*cking thang
See I pop no bullsh*t
If you offended wear it if the motherf*cking shoe fits
But don't have two left feet
f*ck around get your sh*t split to the white meat
Cause y'all ain't nothing but pranksters
f*ck n*ggas, you faking like gangstas
[Luke]
I can't stand a n*gga talking bout he a gangsta
n*gga ain't nothing but a motherf*ckin pranksta
n*gga ain't never been to jail
n*gga ain't never took the gat and really dropped a n*gga
n*gga just talking about dropping a n*gga
Cause he saw another n*gga drop a n*gga on TV
Yo JT, yo tell these n*ggas about two

[Verse 2: JT Money]
Example two, the neighborhood chump Andy Gump
Came across a sawed off pump
I guess the n*gga's no longer a punk
Cause now he talks sh*t and quick to pop the trunk
Young n*gga turned bad over night
Maybe that dust hit got his ass hype
Walking around with a unit on his face
Hanging with the big boys smoking lace
But his wall ain't up to date
And I hate f*ck n*ggas who perpetrate
Like n*ggas makin' love songs first
Next time you see em, all they do is curse
Talkin bout all the n*ggas they killed
First they was lovers, now they tryna be real
And for the other n*gga talkin' this-and-that
About kids hearin' all this on the rap
And for the ones talking 'bout the white man
Ever told your fans who's your boss, man?
I guess that makes y'all prankstas
f*ck n*ggas, you fakin like gangstas
[Luke]
f*ck n*ggas y'all got me worried, yes y'all do, y'all got a n*gga worried
'Cause first of all, y'all n*ggas talkin all this black sh*t, black this black that
The white man's still collecting y'all money
Y'all ain't told yo' motherf*cking fans that, huh?
It's a whole list of y'all f*ck n*ggas who getting it like that

"Real n*ggas" Faking like gangstas
"Real n*ggas" Faking like gangstas
"You guys know who I'm talking to"

[Verse 3: JT Money]
None of them f*ck n*ggas ever did time
But while it's on my mind
We got up 4 in the morning for cold eggs and grits
Jim Jones and doo-doo on a stick
n*ggas had to eat this sh*t everyday
And one n*gga got shanked over a tray
So you gotta have your set up to date
While n*ggas be scrapping for a place
And nobody snitches
Cause snitches get stiches for talking like b*tches
They wouldn't last cause they prankstas
c*nt n*ggas faking like gangstas

[Luke, JT Money]
Hahaha, yo, yo JT, tell these f*ck n*ggas about one of your real capers, my n*gga
True, ain't never one of these f*ck n*ggas ever stood out in front of a n*gga's crib at 2 o'clock in the mornin' in the rain in the middle of December
Imagine how I throw that sh*t away for a n*gga about a crib
Yeah, true, yeah, check this out
I still don't know the f*ck n*gga who I was shooting at, down 54th Street and 7th Avenue, hah, I mean, Nick got so many capable n*ggas on
n*gga just... n*ggas just don't know
We got a little miniature graveyard on 46
Yeah, I had f*cked the n*ggas up, check it out, I had drugged this... this hoe man, I drugged this hoe then robbed, man, she tried to hold on to the car
Yeah yeah! Ay, ay, I, I remember when I met your motherf*ckin' ass, n*gga, you were, you were creepin' like a boxin thang
Oh yeah, I used to get out there and flex, you know what I'm talkin' bout, man, bustin crazy, crazy! Style!
Yeah a ay, check this out
My motherf*ckin record is about that motherf*ckin long
[Transition]
A-doop doop dooo (Oooouuuh)
A-doop doop daaaaaa (Oooh yeaaah)
A-doop doop dooo (Oooouuuh)
A-doop doop daaaaaa (Oooh yeaaah)
A-doop doop dooo (It taste real gooooood) (Oooouuuh)
A-doop doop daaaaaa (It get you f*cked uuuuup) (Oooh yeaaah)
A-doop doop dooo (It's not a wine cooleeeer) (Oooouuuh)
A-doop doop daaaaaa (But it's Cisco insteaaaaaad) (Oooh yeaaah)
A-doop doop dooo (I give it to the b*tcheeeeees) (Oooouuuh)
A-doop doop daaaaaa (And then they give you heaaaaaad) (Oooh yeaaah)
A-doop doop dooo (But don't give 'em too muuuuuuch) (Oooouuuh)
A-doop doop daaaaaa (Or the b*tch will throw uuuuuuuup) (Oooh yeaaah)