A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Vado

"Elbow Grease"

[Intro: Fred The Godson]
Gordo
Frederico
Even if i'm young
My momz used to tell me
You gotta use that elow grease baby

[Verse 1: Fred The Godson]
These birds I'mma whip away like I'm working for Chick-Fil-A
Hope I flip a brick today, fix it up like I'm AAA
Get tired doing rims and them tires
Then you retire start rocking different attire
Not me, I got them buyers, no thanks, far from buyers
No shame, I could divide it, tryna get Benjamin Franks
I'm just being Frank like Papayas
What an O can't do, a P can, mix up the prize
My pride is the streets, I'm tryna get rich and prior the beats
I'm a standup guy, the grams cut wide
The fans upside down, the pans all dry
Trap house in the back, in an hour flat I can fill the room
This is poverty still, throw me a silver spoon cause

[Hook: Fred The Godson]
I'm here stirring it up
Give it that elbow grease
I'm here stirring it up
Give it that elbow grease
Oh, see the whip is grinning
Yeah, the windows tinted
I got whatever they need
Tell 'em please give a minute cause
I'm here stirring it up
Give it that elbow grease

[Verse 2: Fred The Godson]
B12, that propane, cocaine's that code name
Old brain and that old rain to blow cane through them cold veins
I seen them
This fiend was anemic but like my ball he used drugs[?]
For my dishes to clean it up
Whip that hard, soft, nicks, dimez, quarters, half, wholes, fine, grind
Time is not for the scramblers, the D on that corner
Your workers move like salmons, the guap being that linked on
Drug spot with that mink though
They cop O's, they don't think though
I cop P's, I'm like Kinko's
Still over that sink though
I can fill the room's probably be poverty still
I am your silver spoon cause

[Hook: Fred The Godson]

[Verse 3: Bam Vito]
Ok, it's Vito wow well if ain't know
Brooklyn hippie, peep this flow
Smoking in heaven but am hot as hell
But my heart be freezing cold
If rap don't work & trap dont work
That's work, work on the stove
I send them young boys at your home
They don't want your chain, they want your soul
Codeine all in my fruit punch, get the work on the block
These niggas mad cause they at work gotta punch in a clock
And where you're from is where you're at
Fuck if you fighting as if you scratch[?] (scratch)
All of these niggas jus rap (rap), none of these niggas move packs
Some I hate but I anyway, Shine boyz wit me, they never play
Funny shit, we all got work but we ain't got no resumes
Been putting on for so long, used to play the block at night
Dreams of being rich, I woke up broke, I need my commas right
Vito

[Hook: Fred The Godson]

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
© 2017 Lyrics Media Group Inc.