Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
03 Greedo
03 Greedo
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jason Jamal Jackson
Jason Jamal Jackson
Composer
Martin McCurtis
Martin McCurtis
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Helluva
Helluva
Producer

Lyrics

All the fake, all the fake love Mm, mm (everything until dawn) Yeah, yeah (Helluva made this beat, baby) All the fake love, all the fake love Never gettin' to the real me (word around the hood) Heard these niggas tryna kill me (word around the hood) All the fake love never gettin' to the real me Word around the hood, frenemies is tryna kill me Remember we was sleepin' at the fiends', broke and 50 Then we started steppin', ridin' with me, I was guilty How you let the fame turn you around? How I let this money turn the closest ones against me? Seen too many bodies on the ground No sleepovers, but we used to spend the night without permission Heard you stand on business on the block (yeah, yeah, yeah) Bendin' corners in my cubicle, somebody gon' get popped If you don't put in work, you gettin' dropped You was the type to get promoted every time we did a job Now you squeeze 'cause a nigga rich, jealous of that bitch Get him wrapped, let that chopper spit, steady sendin' hits Fuck a bitch, had nowhere to live, I was on my dick When I had nowhere to go, you invited me to your crib In and out of town, you mostly trappin' for attention When I was out of town, I had them rappers in my mentions I just supply 'em with the blow and all that drank that they would sip then 'Cause I sold it for the low 'cause I was on a different mission Favor for a favor, fuck the paper, send the verses They'd be like, "I ain't know you rap, I thought you just be out here murkin'" Workin', in and out of town, that shit was urgent I start to notice all the looks that you was givin', caught you lurkin' All the fake love never gettin' to the real me Word around the hood, frenemies is tryna kill me Remember we was sleepin' at the fiends', broke and 50 Then we started steppin', ridin' with me, I was guilty How you let the fame turn you around? How I let this money turn the closest ones against me? Seen too many bodies on the ground No sleepovers, but we used to spend the night without permission Jealousy, jealousy, yeah Remember you were tellin' me, yeah Friends before the felonies, yeah I feel like you were tellin' me, yeah Money make the steppers start to backtrack, yeah Ain't the blade, but this the block where all the macks at, yeah Had to do it easy, quick just to smack shit, yeah Like a few of these licks, now I'm at your neck, yeah Billy Mays shit, First 48 shit Raise the murder rate shit This a Grape shit Where we spray shit Pat a nigga down like a fresh pair of them Bapes, bitch Too much on my plate, bitch All the fake love never gettin' to the real me Word around the hood, frenemies is tryna kill me Remember we was sleepin' at the fiends', broke and filthy Then we started steppin', ridin' with me, I was guilty How you let the fame turn you around? How I let this money turn the closest ones against me? Seen too many bodies on the ground No sleepovers, but we used to spend the night without permission Yeah, yeah, yeah
Writer(s): Jason Jamal Jackson, Martin Mccurtis Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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