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fredo santana - who the shit lyrics
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[verse 1: fredo santana]
pull up i’m like who the sh-t
my porsche truck sittin’ on butzi’s
thinkin’ you can f-ck wit’ me, man you must be ludicrous
fall back i do this sh-t my trap house got me super rich
dominican b-tch she super thick no goofy sh-t i’m with the sh-t
like who the sh-t? like who the sh-t?
[verse 2: ballout]
no ballin’ sh-t
go to the mall just coppin’ sh-t
pickin’ sh-t, i don’t really care just gettin’ sh-t
in my trap, i ain’t sellin’ nothing but them chickens b-tch
really just be coolin’ motherf-ckers say they be kickin’ it
riding with the squad and we got michael pippen b-tch
[verse 3: tadoe]
capo the barbarian
we sending shots, you bury em
them hoes i one night and f-ck, you wife em up and marry em
i slam d-ck all in her mouth she calling me sean merriman
i ain’t worried bout no f-ckin opp this 4-0 that i’m carrying
squad b-tch
tweak. you get robbed, sh-t
swear to god caper boy, i’ll call him he on his job quick
[verse 4: capo]
squad sh-t, gbe on that mob sh-t
pullin’ 30’s totin’ weapons
and we lettin’ them b-tches spark b-tch
say you don’t want no smoke
then why you start sh-t?
if i catch an opp lackin’, smoke his -ss
comin’ out that apartment
[verse 5: gino marley]
duffle bags full of work
catch the molly carrying
bury em, money got me buying sh-t not wearin it
big blunts of the earth and no b-tch i’m not sharing it
i money get, young n-gga flex on b-tch like money mitch
[verse 6: sd]
come through they like who the sh-t
sd he got hoover clips
come through with the biggest 40 don’t make us have to do this sh-t
i be in the back with your b-tch jus coolin’ it
don’t make us spread the word, i have the whole town moving it
goofy b-tch, when i’m on the block you know them beams lit
usually, i be with the squad just kickin’ it
but if you think its macaroni you gonna make us empty clips
common sense we ride with the mops just takin’ sh-t
[verse 7: tray savage]
cautious cautious these n-ggas best be cautious
i got a couple shooters, man they x you like a marksmen
get down b-tch! ‘fore i let this fifty spit
designer sh-t, designer sh-t all i rock is designer sh-t
[verse 8: fredo santana]
designer sh-t, designer sh-t
come through flexin hard, that they need to rewind this sh-t
got a rollie on my wrist, and i still dont know what time it is
i be getting a lot of bands
treat your b-tch like simon says, she do what i tell her to
ballin thats my usual
you ain’t gettin no money you can’t fit up on my schedule
flexin like the flexers do
you ain’t gettin no money n-gga i can’t stand next to you
just poured a whole 6, now im finna pour another deuce
talkin bout some money then i might just give a f-ck or two
and if you f-cking with the opps then n-gga i can’t f-ck with you
fredo ballin stupid hard, n-gga thats what that money do
just bought a pint of lean sh-t i call that sh-t the money juice
[verse 9: gino marley]
trap house running stupid loose
couple pints of drink so you know we need a sprite or two
crib with a mountain view
racing to the money so you know i ran a light or two
no fighting ain’t no wrestling ain’t n0body in this b-tch bulletproof
foreign whips with forgies too f-ck her like the p-ssy new
no b-tch you can’t spend no night i might just one hour you
trappin is a must so i’m just winning like the winners do
cooler than a cooler with a mac that got a cooler too
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