Fake I.D. (feat. Mar 4x)

Damn, Yur
Mar 4x in this bitch man, you ready Zach? (Yes Sir) Damn

Bitch shaking to much ass, I had to slow her down (Gotta slow her down)
Throw me a brick, better catch a hundred like a touchdown
If you need Za hit me up, I serve it by the pound (Serve it)
Ski'd up in a sheisty mask I wont make a sound (Shh)
Fat bitch shaking ass, I see her booty brown, damn
(Now that's some nasty shit)
Threw Nike with the Dior (Now that's a cold fit)
I heard your baby daddy beat your ass that's some cold shit
I got two Glocks with two beams I aint gonna miss
I see a pregnant baby mamma, then I give her a kiss
Yes, I'm Johnny Cage I'll knock you out, without the fist
I'm a Go Getter, I just be talking shit off the list
Scam my white plug and he gon' say (Man this shit wack!)

Uh, yeah my name Zach, made her ass tap dance hit it from the back!
Whole gang give me round of applause, made her shit clap
Made her shit clap, Made her shit clap
Made her shit clap, Made her shit clap
Uh, Lamar asking where I am? I said I'm right here
Hold up, I'll take the Glock, boy you gotta steer
Heard we gotta wet em up like a mop
Bitch coming over need some sloppy top
Nah he mean the head, and my homie granny 3x she wanna call the feds
If you cant smell it through the pack, that shit is mid
Wait, is that yo kid?
Chop make him do the macarena, make him move his hips
We is not going to the Bahamas, what you want some chips?
Big Drake come with a drum, make a nigga do a flip
We be cracking card so really ion need the chip
Me and Lamar pull up on them make they ass dip
Take a look at me, you know the drake come with a clip
Caught him lacking in the hall, boy you always slip
Ooh, aight, come on Zach aight
If there's three of us, and one of yall are acting sus
Pop you in the back of the head, turn you to Cosmic Dust
Back in the field, we was killing shit
Hitting shit from deep, really drillin shit
Call that shit a Three pointer, need the lazer pointer
Make him find his little cousin hiding in the corner
Tell her momma slide through lets make this shit funner
How you in the club without no money that's a bummer
That boy a trackstar like my Glock 9 he running
You was talking all that shit boy aint that something?
Oof, almost done, bro don't talk shit before I hit you with the drum
Damn you really thought this shit was fun?
Glock got him seizing he looking like a bum
I know I'm the bomb, I got the neon lights like a Tron
Light this shit up, take a rip from the bong
Pass it back and forth shit call it ping pong
Momma always cuss me out, I'm like why you mean mom? damn
Fuck it ion got my Glock hit em with a stone
You always wanna be the next nigga might as well be the nigga clone, yeah
(Damn)



Credits
Writer(s): Zach Lund
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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