This is a song about "Fake bitches"

I maim and wound fake ass crowned bitches

Wale got skills, man my nigga i’m will smith

New york, va, dc, get paid

Confusing what was real and fake;.

All the bitches with drake hands who got fake plans,

And dj's play my records cause i make the needles dance

That involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape

Its fictional just like your rap career, fake.

J. cole runnin' late

All you niggas dead , dead fake

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

Maybe tomorrow i won't have to fake

Ur love was always fake

We both had dreams of being great

When fake bitches see people they haven't seen in years

You know when your transmission go out and can't switch gears