Fake I.D. ft. Mar 4x Lyrics

Damn, Yur

Mar 4x in this bitch man, you ready Zach? (Yes Sir) Damn

Bitch shaking to much ass, I had to slow her down (Gotta slow her down)

Throw me a brick, better catch a hundred like a touchdown

If you need Za hit me up, I serve it by the pound (Serve it)

Ski'd up in a sheisty mask I wont make a sound (Shh)

Fat bitch shaking ass, I see her booty brown, damn

(Now that's some nasty shit)

Threw Nike with the Dior (Now that's a cold fit)

I heard your baby daddy beat your ass that's some cold shit

I got two Glocks with two beams I aint gonna miss

I see a pregnant baby mamma, then I give her a kiss

Yes, I'm Johnny Cage I'll knock you out, without the fist

I'm a Go Getter, I just be talking shit off the list

Scam my white plug and he gon' say (Man this shit wack!)

Uh, yeah my name Zach, made her ass tap dance hit it from the back!

Whole gang give me round of applause, made her shit clap

Made her shit clap, Made her shit clap

Made her shit clap, Made her shit clap

Uh, Lamar asking where I am? I said I'm right here

Hold up, I'll take the Glock, boy you gotta steer

Heard we gotta wet em up like a mop

Bitch coming over need some sloppy top

Nah he mean the head, and my homie granny 3x she wanna call the feds

If you cant smell it through the pack, that shit is mid

Wait, is that yo kid?

Chop make him do the macarena, make him move his hips

We is not going to the Bahamas, what you want some chips?

Big Drake come with a drum, make a nigga do a flip

We be cracking card so really ion need the chip

Me and Lamar pull up on them make they ass dip

Take a look at me, you know the drake come with a clip

Caught him lacking in the hall, boy you always slip

Ooh, aight, come on Zach aight

If there's three of us, and one of yall are acting sus

Pop you in the back of the head, turn you to Cosmic Dust

Back in the field, we was killing shit

Hitting shit from deep, really drillin shit

Call that shit a Three pointer, need the lazer pointer

Make him find his little cousin hiding in the corner

Tell her momma slide through lets make this shit funner

How you in the club without no money that's a bummer

That boy a trackstar like my Glock 9 he running

You was talking all that shit boy aint that something?

Oof, almost done, bro don't talk shit before I hit you with the drum

Damn you really thought this shit was fun?

Glock got him seizing he looking like a bum

I know I'm the bomb, I got the neon lights like a Tron

Light this shit up, take a rip from the bong

Pass it back and forth shit call it ping pong

Momma always cuss me out, I'm like why you mean mom? damn

Fuck it ion got my Glock hit em with a stone

You always wanna be the next nigga might as well be the nigga clone, yeah

(Damn)