Fred The Godson - Big Sundays Freestyle lyrics

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Fred The Godson - Big Sundays Freestyle lyrics

I'm feeling like a Houston Texan Shorty on the phone immature like Marcus Houston texting Lord, I never said I was getting a Ford I said that I was copping some sh** that they can't afford It's funny now, Freddy God, you can't ignore They used to wanna sleep, but now I don't hear a snore Morning, the coffee inside the coffee maker If you in a rush, the coffee cake, I brought you it TBM ready, balls been heavy Office murder, (?) burger, I've been ready Still a beast They wanna hear some sh**, see this the difference I got a crib and a studio, your crib is a studio, we got different rents My re-up is a Kia You don't like the way that I handle the rock then n***a D up Cleared out; isolation A capella in these last lines for observation Contraband, February 28th, y'all, Freddy God

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