Lyrics Pulp Fiction. - LuminBeats

You selling the lies and the fiction
You sell all the bitchin' and snitchin'
No, I don't fuck with you
No, I can't fuck with you
Bitch, where ya at
Snitch, it's a rat
Smoke on the dead homie pack
Roll it up, take it back

Hate shit, I pull up and motherfucking break shit
Why you talking tough until your face gon' press the pavement
Face it, you is just a motherfucking basic
I'mma circle, spin the block while you gon' run and and chase it
Patience, or you gonna end up like a patient
Talking hella sweet while you is writing up them statements
Payment, you is gonna need a fucking agent
They gon' pull up to your shithole, find it fucking vacant
Hate me, knowing that these bitches wanna date me
Shady, the way they be acting to me lately
Crazy, how these bitches talking with they babies
Sitting in they motherfucking bellies with the Bailey's
Lazy, foaming out the mouth, yeah they got rabies
Ladies, walking out, they look all in they eighties
She is a magician, all she gotta do is say please
You cry over money, while all I do is grade cheese

You selling the lies and the fiction
You sell all the bitching and snitching
No, I don't fuck with you
No, I can't fuck with you
Bitch, where ya at
Snitch, it's a rat
Smoke on the dead homie pack
Roll it up, take it back

Loyalty act like an antidote
Loyalty really the answer though
She act like a woman of meaning
She know she the shit and I hit it
Light up the toke and I fly to the sky
Shawty got ass and to me she supply
Stretch out the (Pussy) I do it no hands
Rip up some bands it's that shit I demand
I don't need friends but I know where I stand
Got a few homies my circle is it
I got hella plans and that's on the kid

Know why you talking, no me neither
This is big shit, it's a fucking meat eater
Got big licks bro, I got black sneakers
Run through the night and red the white t-shirt

You selling the lies and the fiction
You sell all the bitching and snitching
No, I don't fuck with you
No, I can't fuck with you
Bitch, where ya at
Snitch, it's a rat
Smoke on the dead homie pack
Roll it up, take it back