Capo (GBE) - Who The sh** lyrics

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Capo (GBE) - Who The sh** lyrics

[Verse 1: Fredo Santana] Pull up I'm like who the sh** My Porsche truck sittin' on Butzi's Thinkin' you can f** wit' me, man you must be ludicrous Fall back I do this sh** my trap house got me super rich Dominican b**h she super thick no goofy sh** I'm with the sh** Like who the sh**? Like who the sh**? [Verse 2: Ballout] No ballin' sh** Go to the mall just coppin' sh** Pickin' sh**, I don't really care just gettin' sh** In my trap, I ain't sellin' nothing but them chickens b**h Really just be coolin' motherf**ers say they be kickin' it Riding with the squad and we got Michael Pippen b**h [Verse 3: Tadoe] Capo the Barbarian We sending shots, you bury em Them hoes I one night and f**, you wife em up and marry em I slam dick all in her mouth she calling me Sean Merriman I ain't worried bout no f**in opp this 4-0 that I'm carrying Squad b**h Tweak. You get robbed, sh** Swear to God caper boy, I'll call him he on his job quick [Verse 4: Capo] Squad sh**, GBE on that mob sh** Pullin' 30's totin' weapons And we lettin' them spark b**h Say you don't want no smoke Then why you start sh**? If I catch an opp lackin', smoke his a** Comin' out that apartment [Verse 5: Gino Marley] Duffle bags full of work Catch the molly carrying Bury em, money got me buying sh** not wearin it Big blunts of the earth and no b**h I'm not sharing it I money get, young n***a flex on b**h like Money Mitch [Verse 6: SD] Come through they like who the sh** SD he got hoover clips Come through with the biggest 40 don't make us have to do this sh** I be in the back with your b**h jus coolin' it Don't make us spread the word, I have the whole town moving it Goofy b**h, 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** [Verse 7: Tray Savage] Cautious Cautious these n***as best be cautious I got a couple shooters, man they X you like a marksmen Get down b**h! 'Fore I let this fifty spit Designer sh**, designer sh** all I rock is designer sh** [Verse 8: Fredo Santana] Designer sh**, designer sh** Come through flexin hard, that they need to rewind this sh** 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**h 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***a 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** or two And if you f**ing with the opps then n***a I can't f** with you Fredo ballin stupid hard, n***a thats what that money do Just bought a pint of lean sh** i call that sh** 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 nobody in this b**h bulletproof Foreign whips with Forgies too f** her like the p**y new No b**h 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