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lirik lagu i wish it was fake – stomper

[verse 1]
grew up in the 80’s, started banging in the nine*o’s
down for my hood ese banging on my rivals
hard to survive, i’m running from the five*o’s
south east los city of winos
my homies dad was a vietnam veterano
a sick man and he go mad if he hit the bottle
flashbacks of bl**dy meat, so he never sleep
he stay up late, he couldn’t take a f*cking bad dream
he sat us down, showed us how to load them ak’s
about the dope game, heroine and cocaine
he said get paid, we’re all born to die anyways
trust no b*tch, k!ll a snitch and grind every day
crime pays and people never change ese
keep it new, stay true and never fake ese
took that advice and loved my life by the things he showed me
and when he died n0body cried for my big homie

[chorus]
lord have mercy on my soul
forgive my mistakes
wild child in the game
trying to learn how to play
tell you life is a disaster
for a young ghetto blaster
but i was cool by the master
so i’m coming up faster
and every day is the same
funerals and court dates
bow my head and i pray
ask god to show me the way
live and breathe it every day
man i wish it was fake
sh*ts real in the field
but how much more can i take?
[verse 2]
well i woke up in the morning, to the sounds of a gunshot
it’s just another dead body, at the f*cking one stop
yellow tape and white sheets, fill the f*cking streets
it’s pouring rain but i still feel the f*cking heat
it’s always on when you’re living in a war zone
you never f*cking up if you’re gonna make it whole
light my blunt, take a toke and inhale the smoke
try no to choke, i’m slowly loading up the .44
hit the door, times money up in this drug trade
import and export, i’m hustling both ways
the game is strange, it never changes, gotta pay your dues
cash rules, but view my status through my tattoos
a gangster’s life is full of f*cked up pain and peer pressure
there’s no way out, this life or death, it’s all [?] adventure
church bells and jail cells, living like a sinner
ain’t no surrender for a k!ller or a drug dealer

[chorus]
lord have mercy on my soul
forgive my mistakes
hot stakes state to state
i’m out here pushing my weight
tell you life is a disaster
for a young ghetto blaster
another day another dollar
means another disaster
and every day is the same
funerals and court dates
homicide g*rides when we retaliate
live and breathe it every day
man i wish it was fake
ride for my homies in the grave
and soldiers behind the cage
[verse 3]
i had a tight ass crew, only the truest of the true
all my g’s pod dues, cause we refuse to lose
only f*ck with the few, a few k!llers that is
learn not to slip and never trip and shoot em right in the d*ck
mind of a lamb on my hip, cause out here pr*cks be acting funny
stack my chips with [?] ese, it’s all about the money
1*8*7’s 2*11’s got all my homeboys caught up
locked up again back in the pen or they get shot up
rest in peace to all my g’s who gave their lives in the streets
yellow tape and white sheets, 76 feet deep
creep creep there’s no retreat and never no surrender
down to do whatever’s clever just to make illegal tender
can’t forget always remember, how my homeboys love me
do anything to bring em back, give up all my f*cking money
that’s for real, that’s for chino, flaco, youngster and bozo
little vago, big stalks, trigger, gunner and cholo

[chorus]
lord have mercy on my soul
forgive my mistakes
wild child in the game
trying to learn how to play
tell you life is a disaster
for a young ghetto blaster
but i was cool by the master
so i’m coming up faster
and every day is the same
funerals and court dates
bow my head and i pray
ask god to show me the way
live and breathe it every day
man i wish it was fake
sh*ts real in the field
but how much more can i take?
[verse 4]
new town that’s where you’re bound to see the ugliest sh*t
the southeast side homie, where it pays to be sick
the home of home invasion, the city i was born and raised in
no father so i grew up to be momma’s h*ll raiser
catching cases cause those races can be plotting on the block
wanna put me in a coffin, found me rolling with the glock
and haters talking all the time, dry snitching on mine
even be dying or crying, i tell you bozo wasn’t lying
hoodrats by the plate, must be crazy for that
or when a snake is on our back, these snakes don’t know how to act
big grumps taught me that one and it stuck in my head
they sent him back to the pen, there goes another good friend
look how they did my homegirl [?], little enemy too
sniper, cut, little speedy, bubble, hustling duke
big dopes, little spider, casper, chico and drips
loco 51*50 must be ghost to [?]

- stomper

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