Fake Friends

Who can I trust in two thousand eighteen No-one not even me Save me from my friends I can handle on my enemies Hear em bitchin still we never listen People gossiping and snitchin Poke em once i pop their ego it bleeds Life been green overseas Pussy, power, and dreams Took a hit and got addicted You can call me a fiend Hit and quit her so she Bitter talkin shit Take my name out your mouth Bitch this aint my dick (sick) Crazy timing my ex just sent me a SMS I love her still but i'm too focused on what's coming next The world's confidence with not enough to show for it Young as f*ck but lately youth been feeling so foreign "He got a chip on his shoulder, its like a brick or a boulder" You'll understand when you're older Bitches Passive aggressive Grown men i know PMSing Ii don't take people's shit my fault i let people in Divide and conquer I was thinking multiply to win, but then again Sometimes you just gotta remind em who they fuckin with Being straight forward only bent you outta shape, that's a shame Living out my darker colors no i aint a saint, who to blame? On god I'll mark you dead to me, its not a sight you meant to see Bringing out the yellow tape and now we taking aim The Greed, Envy and jealousy sounding rotten foul Quick to show me your teeth again I can spot it now Spoiled lil boy like my forgotten child... Brought you up, I shoulda shot you down Got a handful that I would rather do Then kick it with your crew Listen to them shit talkin you, it's true Throwing shade but the truth gon Pain you Bigger city, bigger things still the same you Snaking round, talking venomous now Slytherin out they mouth All the lies they whispering how It still don't hit quite like the truth I cut through the bullshit You just stuck being you And if I left a bad taste in your mouth No need to swallow when I see you just spit it out Fake friends Lemon sour like a glass of gin They'll love you when you win until you passing them Being straight forward only bent you outta shape, that's a shame Living out my darker colors no i aint a saint, who to blame? On god I'll mark em dead to me, its not a sight you meant to see Bringing out the yellow tape and now we taking aim