Pretend Guns

[VERSE 1]
You can see me
In my Pontiac whip
You best believe me, dat
I'mma empty the clip
Uh
The pretend clip, bitch
I ain't talkin' bout
The real shit, breh
Heh
I betchu couldn't shift, like
This, bitch, I betchu don't
Got rims like this shit
I betchu is a snitch
With a limp dick
I betchu didn't know
Dis is Camboi Smif
Uh
See, I'm the kinda guy to make all
Da bitches cry when I'm grindin' they
Fuckin hymens inside da vaginas, when
I'm slidin all five inches uh my
Muthafuckin' tech nine in 'em
But it's not a real tech nine, is it?
Nah, it's just the fuckin tips of my fingas, ya
Know yo bitch sucked the tip of my pennis
Cuz the muthafuckin' bitch is a dingus
I'm into hardcore gangster shit
I don't got real guns, but I can invent 'em
Ridin' with a bunch of my friends, and then
I seen you outside'a da whip, so I lift
My gats up, but they only pretend
Ya fuckin dumb bitch

[HOOK]
Uh
One pretend gun
Uh
Two pretend guns
Uh
Both pretend guns
Bitch
You ain't got pretend guns
Hun
I'm fuckin throwin' up my hand
Out the window, and
Cruisin' by you on the street
Smokin' on dat indo, and
I'm pointin' at yo ass
With an imaginary gat
Two twelves in the trunk
So I can bump dat fuckin rap

[VERSE 2]
Catch me with forty of dat Orangina
Yo, my faux gat is
Chrome black, so I call it
Morgan Freeman
I ain’t a racist, but I’ll be
Damned if I ain’t a sexist, check
Da phalange pointed atcha
Left leg from the Lexus
Down in Texas
They don’t do it like we do it
Indexes double as a barrel
Don’tcha ever be stupid
Max caliber, shoot
Through three mooses
Sixteen pooches, and damn
Twenty-three students
Trigga fanga lucid as fuck, cuz
Da fanga is a part'a da gun
Put fictional bullet, though
The heart of your grandson
Hold da body for ran-some
Hunnet million grand, son
Gim-me your man-sion
Don’t make me use this hand-gun
Ya ain’t got no chance, hun
Da way I aim is ran-dom
Can’t run from Came-run
Make you a phan-tom
Give you some cancer
Teach you some manners
Make you watch Fantasia
Untie yo laces
Fall to yo face bitch
Face first in apeshit, make you
Take off yo dang shit, so
I can put a
Fake faux faux, straight
In yo anus
By da way, I hate your bracelets
Dem thangs da gayest
Dey ain't like my bracelets
Dem thangs the straight dankest

[HOOK]
Uh
One pretend gun
Uh
Two pretend guns
Uh
No pretend guns
Bitch
You ain't got pretend guns
Hun
I'm fuckin throwin' up my hand
Out the window, and
Cruisin' by you on the street
Smokin' on dat indo, and
I'm pointin' at yo ass
With an imaginary gat
Two twelves in the trunk
So I can bump dat fuckin rap

[VERSE 3]
Got my pretend gun
Got my pretend butt
Yeah that butt that’s filled
With silicon, that
I got at the rhinoplasty
Last week, and
Da ass cheeks on
Dat B-U-T-T make
Kim K-A-
Dashian, look like
A fat bitch wit
A saggy back end cuz
My ass is a hunnit mutha
Fuckin times more shapely
Lately
I been thanking
Of taking
My pre-tend
G-U-N
And then
Shoving it
Up in
My tight little synthetic asshole