Lyrics: Fredo Santana – Who the Shit

Who the Shit Lyrics

Fredo Santana
Fredo Santana

Who the Shit Lyrics

By Fredo Santana

[Verse 1: Fredo Santana]
Pull up I’m like who the shit
My Porsche truck sittin’ on Butzi’s
Thinkin’ you can fuck wit’ me, man you must be ludicrous
Fall back I do this shit my trap house got me super rich
Dominican bitch she super thick no goofy shit I’m with the shit
Like who the shit? Like who the shit?

[Verse 2: Ballout]
No ballin’ shit
Go to the mall just coppin’ shit
Pickin’ shit, I don’t really care just gettin’ shit
In my trap, I ain’t sellin’ nothing but them chickens bitch
Really just be coolin’ motherfuckers say they be kickin’ it
Riding with the squad and we got Michael Pippen bitch

[Verse 3: Tadoe]
Capo the Barbarian
We sending shots, you bury em
Them hoes I one night and fuck, 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 fuckin opp this 4-0 that I’m carrying
Squad Bitch
Tweak. You get robbed, shit
Swear to God caper boy, I’ll call him he on his job quick

[Verse 4: Capo]
Squad shit, GBE on that mob shit
Pullin’ 30’s totin’ weapons
And we lettin’ them bitches spark bitch
Say you don’t want no smoke
Then why you start shit?
If I catch an opp lackin’, smoke his ass
Comin’ out that apartment

[Verse 5: Gino Marley]
Duffle bags full of work
Catch the molly carrying
Bury em, money got me buying shit not wearin it
Big blunts of the earth and no bitch I’m not sharing it
I money get, young nigga flex on bitch like Money Mitch

[Verse 6: SD]
Come through they like who the shit
SD he got hoover clips
Come through with the biggest 40 don’t make us have to do this shit
I be in the back with your bitch jus coolin’ it
Don’t make us spread the word, I have the whole town moving it
Goofy bitch, 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’ shit

[Verse 7: Tray Savage]
Cautious Cautious these niggas best be cautious
I got a couple shooters, man they X you like a marksmen
Get down bitch! ‘Fore I let this fifty spit
Designer shit, designer shit all I rock is designer shit

[Verse 8: Fredo Santana]
Designer shit, designer shit
Come through flexin hard, that they need to rewind this shit
Got a Rollie on my wrist, and i still dont know what time it is
I be getting a lot of bands
Treat your bitch 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 nigga 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 fuck or two
And if you fucking with the opps then nigga I can’t fuck with you
Fredo ballin stupid hard, nigga thats what that money do
Just bought a pint of lean shit i call that shit 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 bitch bulletproof
Foreign whips with Forgies too fuck her like the pussy new
No bitch 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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