Base Beats - Elbow Grease lyrics

[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, c**aine'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 d**[?] 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 n***as mad cause they at work gotta punch in a clock And where you're from is where you're at f** if you fighting as if you scratch[?] (scratch) All of these n***as jus rap (rap), none of these n***as move packs Some I hate but I anyway, Shine boyz wit me, they never play Funny sh**, 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]