paroles de chanson Who? - Zoe Forte

Who!
Who better than me
Who you kno do it better than me
Not a man not a soul not a thing
I'm the man, I'm a boss, I'm a king

Who you kno, wid the drip like this
My juice double S like Ssips
Double D's on the chest of my bitch
Double V's and a S on my wrist

I live in the trap and I trap wile I rap
Hustle all day just to double double up
I don't trust these niggaz cuz they be some rats
Trade they mans for a couple bucks

I took the knife out my back
I'm lucky for that cuz niggaz is cut throat
I kno my haters be mad
But it's still a fact
Gonna show me the upmost

Funny how niggas be talkin
And soon as I walk in
Suddenly shut his mouth
Niggaz be stretching the truth
But they know how I do
Yea they kno what I'm all about

My worst is you at your best
You wanna impress
But you stressing ya self out
Home of the Yankees and Mets
But I ball like the nets
Out in Brooklyn we cash out

I break the bank and collect
They checking my cred
Like the streets, boy I'm on 730
I'll put a foot on ya neck
So don't disrespect
Clear the scene Imma do em dirty

Gun drawn then I'm shooting em dead
We don't aimed for the leg
Run down and I shoot w perpose
And no we don't tolerate threats
Now off with ya head
Guillotine all the unworthy

(Pop shit...)

I just, Roll the dice for the poker chips
I need, blue stripes and a half a zip
I just, named a price made the money flip
Big facts, 2 for 4 but I charge em 6

Big Bank take lil bank
I puff, Big smoke with a lil drink
Thick bitch with a lil waists
There's more, Perkey tits and a pretty face

I got, 6 shots in the 38
I rep, 6-7 first 48
I'm the shit money toilette pap ahh
Pay me now don't pay me late-tuhh

Who!
Who better than me
Who you kno do it better than me
Not a man not a soul not a thing
I'm the man, I'm a boss, I'm a king

Who you kno gettin money like this
Daytime still on graveyard shift
Game time james harden w the wrist
Head crack that's a 4-5-6

Money and violence, Lights and the sirens
Cross the wrong street and ya done
Fly like a pilot, Should be a stylist
Dress you like you was my son

Not with the acting not with the capping
Let Unless it's cap one
Go in ya pocket Like what's in your wallet
I'm taking all of your funds

Niggaz do a whole lotta talkin out the ass
But the words seem to neva mean shit
Try to put ya hands in my bag
That's a foot in yo ass
So far you can reach it
I just think it's funny how you say you gettin money
And ya pockets speakin totally different
See I'm the nigga with the cash
Got you salty niggas mad my bank account be look so damn privileged

(Damn)