| You better think before you call Tyrone |
| Can you trust him |
| Is he real |
| Does he look you in the eyes and make you feel what he’s saying |
| Shit I ain’t playing |
| My ??? in knots |
| Remember the last niggas you felt they got you robbing shop |
| I gots no time for new friends |
| Some of the old ones ain’t cool |
| You ain’t kicked it with this nigga since high school |
| And you twenty-two now |
| All a sudden y’all exchanging numbers callin |
| You don’t think that nigga heard you ballin |
| Fuck that |
| I smell a rat |
| And I can hear the gats click clack |
| Along with the sirens |
| And special forces teams |
| Or can it be that infrared beam and ski masks |
| Niggas on a mission who say they gots to have it |
| I’m grasping at straws |
| And you think I’m picking with cha |
| But you gots to stay one up on them niggas |
| For they come and get cha |
| You figure since y’all go way back them that matters |
| Sometimes they be the first to ratta tatta |
| Chorus: Mia X Friend or foe |
| You never know who’s real |
| Who’s fake |
| Who’s mask of love disguise hate |
| You never know |
| Break bread sleep in your house |
| Then turn around and rat you out |
| Friend or foe |
| You never know who’s real |
| Who’s fake |
| Who’s mask of love disguise hate |
| You never know |
| Break bread sleep in your house |
| Then end up being rivals in a shot out |
| Verse 2: Mac |
| Have you ever pulled a caper |
| With a nigga who you thought was your ace |
| Y’all got separated he got caught |
| And they took him to that place |
| With no hesitation |
| He was coughing up all kinds of information |
| Ole, master splint ass nigga |
| Can’t handle interrogation |
| Type of nigga that see your killer |
| But instead of informing you |
| Act like he don’t see shit |
| Walk away without warning you |
| Ain’t that cold |
| Cause you remember when he had slept on your couch |
| When his other partner had kicked him out |
| For running his god damn mouth |
| But see ah that’s the type of shit your girl was telling you bout |
| And she told you he was trying to fuck every time you left the house |
| You thought he was only tripping |
| And that she was only bitching |
| Till you caught in your kitchen |
| Trying to shove his little dick in What you love |
| So now you in the pen for it Oh yeah you shot him so now you doing ten for it Niggas don’t give a fuck |
| They would rob you now |
| And drink with you later |
| Rape your sister |
| Go to school with you |
| And cheat on your paper |
| (Chorus) until song fades |