No Fakes (feat. Brizzy)

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Lil Yimb

3:26

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Yeah
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Woah
Woah woah
I hop in the lamb with lil brizzy, we be racing shit
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Woah woah
Yeah, yeah
I hop in the lamb with lil brizzy, we be racing shit
And I keep my hand on the glock, cause we be toting shit
And I swear my boys on the block, we be killing shit
And are you real or not, Cause I’m not faking shit
We keep drums and sticks, we keep hella clips
Run up in your shit, uh, I might take your bitch
Me and brizzy coming up, yeah, we getting rich
We said f*ck you and your clique, cause we getting rich
I might go f*ck on his bitch now, and she like the way that my wrist drown (Yeah)
I told a f*ck boy to sit down, and I think he see that I’m lit now (Yeah)
I had to go change up my background, yeah I had to go change up my background
Glock with a stick, yeah, we might hit your hip now
Me and Brizzy pull up, we just keeping sticks now
Sticks now, we just keeping sticks now
Boy you could get hit down
We shoot for the clouds now
We smoke by the pound now, we smoke by the pound now, we smoke by the pound now
If I pull up with Brizzy no no you not safe
We keep a hundred bands right in the safe
Louis V everything, expensive taste
We getting money, yeah we get the cake
Me and lil brizzy might hop in the wraith
V12 my engine if you wanna race, me and lil brizzy we get all the cake uh
I hop in the lamb with lil brizzy, we be racing shit
And I keep my hand on the glock, cause we be toting shit
And I swear my boys on the block, we be killing shit
And are you real or not, Cause I’m not faking shit
We got glocks and shit, we got drums and sticks
I got hella bricks, it’s enough to make you rich
We drive foreign whips, we rock foreign fits
Your bitch eat my dick, cause she saw my swag and shit
I got my hands on a glock, it’s gon’ eat your shit
We might spin your block, this a 30 clip
Talk extended clips, please don’t talk your shit
Your bitch on my dick, because we be spending shit
I got a glock with extensions
Pull up on me boy I’m reckless
I stack the money like Tetris
Gang full of shooters don’t test us
I shoot his ass in the chest, don’t f*ck with me got a bullet proof vest, yeah
Me and Lil Yimb we up next, I just be thumbing through these fucking checks, yeah
Checks, yeah, I thumb through these checks, yeah
Ex, yeah, I flex on my ex, yeah
Me and yimb we smoke on that gas, yeah, gas yeah, we smoke on that thrax, yeah
Thrax yeah, we smoke on that thrax, yeah
Gas yeah we been on that pack yeah
Me and brizzy steady spending cash yeah
I hop in the lamb with lil brizzy, we be racing shit
And I keep my hand on the glock, cause we be toting shit
And I swear my boys on the block, we be killing shit
And are you real or not, Cause I’m not faking shit

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