Drego & Beno – Fake OG lyrics

[Intro: Beno]
Antt did the track
Stuntman
Beatgang
Woo

[Verse 1: Beno]
I wake up and I look up in the mirror, prayin' God to Jesus
You can get like ten grams for a thousand when I'm in the V
You wake up and you look up in the mirror, what you tryna be?
All these old niggas runnin' game, tryna mimic Meech
I got 'bout like fifty-five shooters when I'm in the D
Still got the plug on the drank, he from Virginia Beach
We was havin' shootouts with some niggas that's from down the street
Bitch, she wanna leave 'cause she heard I'm back in the beef
My mama pray for me 'cause she heard I'm back in the streets (Man)

[Verse 2: Drego]
Yeah, I need a whole M like four Richard Milles
I spent some shit on my chain, this shit cost a bricky
This nigga lookin' at me wrong, I'ma up the blicky
Have my bitch drain you out your bag, boy, like Robin Givens
Yeah, I'm still singing for the pussy, boy, like Lyfe Jennings
Ayy, I get to spending that Al Green when I get to feeling
I need a thousand pack of beans, keep them bitches spinning

[Verse 3: Beno]
And we can shoot back down the way, bitch, just to make a killing
We sipped like sixty-five lines, I think I reached my limit
She say, "It won't fit, bae, you gotta pack it different"
I can see this shit now, it ain't no competition
But when you hop up in that field, you better not leave that biscuit
Tryna run this shit up fast like zero to sixty
When you in the streets, boy, you cannot show no sympathy
I just blew straight through that bag, she want that Tiffany (Man)

[Verse 4: Drego]
Ayy, I heard that nigga lean, dawg, be freezin' in the freezer
Lil Jon, I'm with them Eastside boys, they'll get you
How you gon' bubble in the D? Niggas hatin', niggas snitchin'
Fake og tryna coach me, he ain't even on the bleachers
Gotta watch the niggas closest, he'll give you to the people
Twenty-five hundred for this jacket, I just wear it for a season
Fifteen hundred for these pants with this thirty piece peekin'
If you wanna take a chance, we got the Martin and the Gina
She like, 'Why it's hot as hell? " Baby, we the reason
I'll have my niggas bake you, wrap you like a pita

[Verse 5: Beno]
I'm finna serve this blowhead, she said, "Bring a needle"
I told lil' baby go'n 'head when we stopped in Cleveland
Rip my baby Five, really miss my mans
Man, I'd rather fuckin' die than get played like a ham
All this fuckin' money, I just blow it like a fan
Yeah, for the whole damn year, I could pay your rent

[Verse 6: Drego]
Man, this chopper bustin', sound like Diddy in Making the Band
The only thing that I pray that this bitch don't jam
I'm makin' way too many pros, don't tell your friend
That I be fuckin' with the shh, 'cause I ain't takin' no L's
I heard he E. B. Du Bois, he workin' with them
I can't bring around my mans, he playin' with ten
I sent a new damn ton like I'm playin' with Cam
I heard he think he sippin' Act', he sippin' Am-Nam

[Outro]
Beatgang