Lyrics Fake News - Don Trip, Starlito

Fake News

I’m heartbroken
It’s bout the time I crack me a bottle or start smoking
Got charges and scars open, fighting like Charles Oakley
Trying to move forward some nights I’m Lamar Odom
Grind so hard some times it’s hard to focus, on what’s important
Peer pressure turn to depression that shit is poison
Abortion karma for extortion I’m hearing voices
I made some choices, can’t avoid it (Lito)
We really rapping, bruh asked me to make a chorus
My bad, fuck her out of habit made a hunnid racks out a storage
I’m a poet, got some drank I’ll sell it before I pour it
I been thinking, If you ain’t tell it then how they know it?
I got five pounds under my sink right now, Live from the kitchen
Got about 25 trying to grind up on 60 and then I’m dipping (Gone)
Plush me out a spot and try to figure it out
In case tomorrow never comes I’m trying to get it now I’m really bout it
Going through it, it’s more than music, show on Saturday, court on Tuesday
I just checked the score I’m winning, I’m enjoying ignoring them losers
I be by myself everywhere I go, I ain’t employing no shooters
And I get around like a Youtube rumor (Lito)
Fake News got me nationwide
Pay your dues like you pay your tithes
Change how you move or you can’t survive
And keep me away from them dudes that ain’t ride please
And keep me away from all these bitches trying to shake me down
I work too hard for my money won’t let you take a dime
Out here breaking bitches hearts, but never breaking stride
Little I, clean as a mega box of Tide.
So what am I if I can’t provide?
Look in my eyes, failure is what you ain’t gone find
I’m still a underdog it don’t bother me I don’t mind
Cause I’ll still maul you if hop my fence or cross the line
I got my name on the waiting list if it’s not my time
I see some old niggas hating, why am I not surprised?
I’m still at it though, God bless if the levies hold
Out here in this water hopes the only thing that floats
My half bath got a bar of 30 dollar soap
and I still can’t clean my act up, dirty money stacked up
Rocking like a pair of retro 8's double strapped up
Come and test my gangsta I’m gone strike like a match book
Damn it man, a nigga got more problems than a math book
But a bitch ain’t neither one of them so all my pages adding up
These hoes garbage these niggas snakes no matter what
So I make sure all my trash is at the curb and my grass is cut
I come from a special place called not having much
Trying to build my house on easy street since we had it tough
These little niggas online keep taking stabs at us
But I’m too stingy to even give half a fuck (Godspeed)