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i don't believe you - lunatic the messiah lyrics

“i don’t believe you”

(written by c. tolen)

hook:
(i don’t believe you) yellin’ you a felon with bricks, and
(i don’t believe you), tellin’ you got a h-ll of a clique
(i don’t believe you), you ain’t got no guys or b-tches
(i don’t believe you, i don’t believe you) n-gga you ain’t got to lie to kick it

verse one:
you guys is b-tches talkin’ like you hard and you got gangsta
_softer than linen, like women you not gangsta
_it’s not danger, when you bringin’ beef, you just
stangers to the hood, new to the streets, watch a
movie, then brag on what you do in the streets, when you
never make moves in the streets, just a bunch of fake
f-ggots, you flukies who weak and so lame
lyin’ on what you got which really is no game, the
c0ke game ain’t never seen your face or touched ya, ‘cuz you
not, never been, never will be a hustler, and
i could never trust ya, with fake credentials, no
track record, no one to vouch or represent ya
all the sh-t you say you been through is for the books, just
a bunch of war stories by some halfway crooks, n-ggas
is shook, got gats and scared to k!ll n-ggas, so you
need to come to the chi and see some real n-ggas

hook:

verse two:
n-ggas talkin’ like they cities got the homicide record, but it’s
really chi-town, sun, and i’m a die reppin’, keep a
hand on my weapon like it’s part of the job, i might
come across somebody to rob and body the mog
i ain’t gotta be hard, but i’m a be true, instead of
like these n-ggas sayin’ sh-t that they’d never do, stayin’
_ahead of you ‘cuz i be settlin’ beef, when n-ggas
know you thoroughbred, that’s respect in the streets, you could
roll through the windy, but you never could eat, these
blocks is sewed up, you heavy, so what, these
streets is so buck, ain’t no room for phonies, i got
junior high shorties that’ll lose you homie, never
ride without a toolie on me, tucked safe, one
between the eyes’ll leave you makin’ a f-ck face, that’s
real, it ain’t sh-t to see you fadin’ to black, leave the
lies alone dawg, and start playin’ with facts

hook:

verse three:
hey, yo,_ how come a n-gga can’t keep it real, tell the
truth and still have the same chances to get a deal
_i’m tryin’ to get a mil’ and double them funds
regardless if i done did two bits f-ckin’ with guns, poke a
n-gga, put a snub in his lungs and tell him run it, i ain’t
never fronted, ask lil’ shook and two hundred, ask
_them circle n-ggas, ask them bc cats, how all i
do is spit the truth on all my cd tracks, how i
_get on my grind when the hood need gats, and n-ggas
who know me, always overstood these facts, i would
be back on martin street, rocks in my palm, but when they
popped me, tore my house down, dropped me a bomb, now i’m
_tryin’ to drop me a song and get legitimate
stacks, my whole life a n-gga did it with gats, did it
for crack, i bitted for that, and made it through, now if
i can do it, tell me why the f-ck can’t you

hook:

- lunatic the messiah lyrics

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