Letras:
Fake Account

spent a little dough I'm 'gon fuck If money ain't a thang I'm sayin let a bitch know Typed to empty a account, how far you willin to go (TURN IT UP!!)

many choices to make Take a look around (Just look around) Where is your hope found (Where is it found) Is it the ones you love Or just your bank account

you make a lot of money but cha' talk too much Countin' chickens that ain't there'll get cha' caught in a fuss Makin' false accusations, fake boot in

I anit messing with you can'ts, Someone can do negro, A real-life California hero, About six zeros at the end of the number in my bank account, Nigga

Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my nigga [Royce Da 5'9"] Seven years and countin, I've been accounting For unaccountable rap problems 'Cause accountant

loud, but I ain't low Wait for the day that Bubba can't blow And get them fo?sho, bitch can?t blow S.V. style, you know what I?m talking about Mo?fucking bank account

you to be my only wife We didn't make it, I couldn't take it I tried to square up, it's too hard I couldn't fake it And now I see why, since I was knee

or more Talking about shit you never did before You know my macking is cracking, all of the time 24-7 Spitting playboy rhymes I got a serious grind and it sure ain't fake

bill collectors, Like Jehovah's Witness when they showed up at your door at Christmas, Was broke as dishes, Tryna let it go Hit the club, She drop it low Lower than my credit score, Account