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Brett Domino
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Fake Friends
I'm a hard-hitter, big baller
See me in da club, I be letting mad dollar fly
I lie, my cash got the queens head
Darwin on the back, thin metallic dash thread
The bouncers all know me
They be like, hey homie
VIP for me & Steven an' our cronies
Smellin' fresh, sippin' on negronies
Ladies looking over like, telephone me
People say YOLO so time to play
All through the night 'til the break of day
But for just one night
Yeah, tonight I'm like
No, I don't want to tear sh up
No, I don't want to get fed up
All I really want to do is stay home with my fake friends
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No, I don't want to double up
No, I don't want to hit a club
All I really want to do is stay home with my fake friends
Yeah, this time last weekend I was out with my clique and
I say with no pretence, we do this quite frequently
Propping up bars 'n' drinking like Tarzan would
If he hadn't've been raised by the Mangani apes
Drake. Shapes. Thrown down on the dancefloor
Skills so deadly, cover your mouth it might be airborne
Fire so many shots that they all call me the machine gun
Hands up in the air as soon as I predict the kick drum
Don't look at me like that
Don't try to drag me out, I will fight back
Now and again, I just want my fake friends...
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