lirik lagu caps - dd2
[intro]
sharma gayi main haye haye
ghabra gayi haye haye
sharma gayi main hi~haye hi~haye (cj)
ghabra gayi main haye haye
yo
[verse]
yo, it’s the asian in me, i sell fast food like takeaways
and we’re trappin’ out the shop until they raid the place
more horses in my bimma than a stable
the only thing i’ve signed is a ups label
gave her one pipe, left your main chick asthmatic
just like my whips, bro, the bl!cks came automatic
if you seen my re~up, you’d think i’m reselling jordan’s
if you’re talkin’ audi’s, then it’s gotta be a vorsprung
i got so many hoes tryna ruin my day
baby, if you love mе, you gon’ get on this plane
more stonеs on my neck than a peb phone
this magazine ain’t vogue, that’s extendo
threw my phone away, it was movin’ all strange
alum rock, turn your car park to a gun range
i be gettin’ new racks like b~tches in turkey
copped another crib, b~tch, i ain’t even thirty
caught him doin’ ratty stuff when he had potential
left him rubbed out like the back of a pencil
f~ck snakes on a plane, i got birds on a boat
must be my genes, done it on my jack jones
sippin’ lean at the store, she ain’t been here before
she reverted to islam, i took her christian dior (let’s go)
she said, “slow down” cah the ‘rari got her sick now
speed camera flashin’ like a chick with her tits out
bitin’ my style and they claim they’re the hardest
bro, you’re a genin, i be comin’ like hokage
got sales in germany, sales in amsterdam
(hustle in new york, gave him three~hundred packs)
i’m in france, g~wagon on a clean run
i don’t need friends, i need addy’s in sweden (rappers full of sh~t like—)
these rappers full of sh~t like diapers
yeah, we got this same watch, but my one got the diamonds
flyer just landed, yeah, she’s waitin’ at arrivals
you’d think i shoot webs the way i always drive spyders
just like a spec on a whip, every box in the canteen in jail gets ticked
kicked out my school, but i be flyin’ first class
say you smoke top shelf, why your spliff burn black?
if i ain’t got what you need, i’ll import it
call me mr. certi, the way i transport it (who would’ve—)
who would’ve thought bujjboy’s goin’ on tour?
my old fiends stop me, but i don’t sell crack no more
got the rap game in the bag like some groceries
you send your workers ot, i got my workers overseas
[outro]
sharma gayi main haye haye
ghabra gayi main haye haye
sharma gayi main hi~haye hi~haye (cj)
ghabra gayi— mere, mere
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