Pump Fakin lyrics

[Intro: RMC Mike & 3200 Tre]
b*tch
Real Ghetto Boy, I been breaking the rules
Ayy, ayy


[Verse 1: 3200 Tre]
I feel like a real Ghetto Boy, I been breaking rules
I should've been a Ghetto Boy, I done made some with too
Hell yeah, I got a bag, I be shaking it too
I know I said I want it for 25, you can take it for 2 (MKMentality, baby)
PMP, BlocBoy JB, every day we gon' shoot
Don't question if I'm up dog sh*t, b*tch, I stay with some poop
I made something out of nothing, b*tch, I'm greater than you
I ain't never had these many blues, dawg thank for the crues
Hm, no, I'm not cooking steak if I'm making some food
I'm whipping the type of sh*t, make you faint if you use
Doubt a undеrstatement, b*tch, you couldn't walk a day in my shoes
Seen a lotta sh*t with thеse eyes, think I played in some movies
Hm, if you watched me, you'd understand me
Just gave a tweak a G and made him speak, he think he won a Grammy
My phone rung, think it was a score, she wanted something sandy
Hold on, forgot about you, let me call my uncle Tammy (MKMentality, baby)
Hm, never mind, that's my f*cking auntie
You n*ggas broke with no life, you'd probably jump a baby
I'm not a weed man, don't call for no f*cking eighties
But if you buy a quad, I can't say no, I got a couple babies
Hm, yeah, I'm getting frustrated
Peezy say he say he didn't know about me, Mike update him
Ask about the price and not cop' it, b*tch, you pump faking
Hm, b*tch,I'm the number one devil, I'll punch Satan
[Verse 2: RMC Mike]
Lick a shot off, he tryna run, I got a drum waiting
Pour Morton on my b*tch coochie for that one flavor
Left Wokisha for a couple months, she was unfaithful
17 grams in the 'Wood, got the blunt breaking
Try to move, baow, he hit once, I wasn't pump faking
7 racks for a bag, I took it back, the b*tch is ungrateful
The sh*t you smoking cost 25 a eighth, I know your lungs hate you
How you balling and don't even own a crib? Boy, you unstable
Alright, let's get back to business
Rose Gold feature, Peezy said he finna wrap the Bentley
I make a living off talking sh*t now, we used to trap for [?]
How the f*ck is you the boat man, when your bag too skinny?
Ghetto Boy sh*t, f*ck a label, we gon' stay indie
Bae, how many pills fit in your coochie? She said, "850"
My nephew hardhead, he riding with Glocks while his case pending
Spin a block, let off 16 shots and left 8 victims
Got my first gun at 12, now I'm a genius with the pistol
20 racks in dubs, f*ck them skinny jeans, I couldn't fit 'em
b*tch talk too much, so I stuffed my wee-wee in her dental
Half colored stones all in my pendent, we official