Fred The Godson - Elbow Grease lyrics

rate me

ft. Bam Vito

These birds I’mma whip away like I’m working for chick fillet

Hope I flip a brick today, fix it up like I’m AAA

Get tired doing rims and them tires

Day 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 tryna be frank like propriety

What an old can do, a pea can, mixed up the prize

My bride is the streets, I’m tryna get rich, I’m tryna to beat this out

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

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

B12, that propane, cocaine’s that code name

Old brain and that old rain to blow cane through old veins

I seen them

This fiend was anemic but like my ball he used off

For my dishes to clean it up

Whip that all self nigga, diamonds, quarters, half hoes, 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 Os, they don’t think, though

I cop peas, I’m like…still over that sink, though

I can fill a room, probably be poverty still

Put me a silver spoon ‘cause

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

Ok, it’s Vito if you don’t know

Brooklyn hippie, peep this flow

Smoking heavy, I’m hot as hell

But my heart be freezing cold

If frat don’t work then trap gonna work

That’s work, work, honest, though

I sent them young boys at your home

They don’t want your chain, they want your soul

…in my fruit punch, get the work on the block

These niggas mad ‘cause they out working, got a bunch and a Glock

And where you’re from is where you’re at

Fuck if you fight or if you stretch

All of these niggas is whack, none of these niggas move packs

Some might hate but anyone, …boys with 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

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