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srt - guapo lyrics

[intro: guapo]
(i need 100 keyz)
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[verse 1: guapo]
srt, we ride two hundred on these dashes, yeah
every day, i put on all this drip just to go trappin’, yeah
ayy, lil jairmy drove the redeye, he done crashed it, yeah
take ’em on a chase, we take them risks, we take them chances
i swear i think i done fell in love with rockin’ all this fashion
walk in saks and i drop thirty*six hundred just on a jacket (yeah, yeah)
double back and i went bought the shoes to match it, huh
my trap, it be jumpin’, your trap slow just like molasses, huh
my chains, they on tennis, and i walk ’round with these rackies, huh
snuck up in the club, i snuck my drac’ up in my baggage, huh
i make this white b*tch get up on the plane with pounds up in her baggage, huh
please do not bring out my savage, i get ratchet with that ratchet, huh
yeah, and, b*tch, i’m a big dog, swear these lil’ n*ggas ain’t in my bracket
i love this drank, i gotta have it, swear this sh*t here a bad habit
my n*ggas like to jack, we catch a rapper, take his patek
we in the cut just like a bandage, we put oppers in a casket
my trap, it jump like rabbits, we spend dollars on these carats
my gun come with attachments, hit you with these godd*mn gadgets
servin’ pluto, hit this dope and it might take you to a planet
all my lil’ n*ggas be jackin’, they rob sh*t just like a bandit
[verse 2: otb fastlane & guapo]
ayy, i know n*ggas cook it underwater just like sandy
lulu still posted on the corner, jalen ramsey
put her in a benz coupe and take her out that camry
ayy, my plug let me front whatever long as i can handle it (ayy, ayy)
we just put on clothes, f*ck these hoes, and rock these shows (ayy)
if the promoters don’t wanna book us, f*ck it, we gon’ sell these ‘bows (ayy, ayy, ayy)
nosy*ass b*tch, you need to probably sell your nose
i put d*ck up in her stomach, but she feel it in her toes
ayy, in here with lil’ guap and we finessin’ for the profit, ayy
rockin’ all these diamonds, steady chewin’ these d*mn roxys
yeah, n*ggas hate, but watch, ayy, smoke blow like bin laden
we don’t f*ck with n*ggas ’cause n*ggas sour and they rotten
ayy, hit you ‘cross your head with that glizzy, i ain’t playin’, ayy
give me that up out your pocket and whatever in your hand, ayy
girl, you is a fool, but can you f*ck like you dance? ayy
count so much paper, catchin’ cramps all in my hand (yeah)

[verse 3: guapo]
i got one b*tch, she a fool, like how you suck it with no hands?
yeah, lil’ b*tch got that ass, like how you fit it in them pants?
i got one b*tch and she trappin’ and my other b*tch, she scam
i sell wockiki and quagen, i just pour it out the can

- guapo lyrics

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