Fred The Godson

Fred The Godson - Everything lyrics

rate me

Everything I want, I bought

Fuck what you thought

Everything I want, I bought

Fuck what you thought

Time to bring New York back to life like

We riding all night like

Say I’m next on the mic like

Everything gonna go, go

They say New York is going through a crisis

They flow so-so, they know Frederico is the nicest

Still in the streets with the blam

I use long arms so you reach my demand

Talking about a terror alert

I sell to whoever, whenever, whatever works

See that bread that I knew, now Fred coming through

Blood and crib walking ‘cause she red, then I blew

I just got word J done retiring

Right across the street the 9 mm is firing

White kids wanna be firemen

But chain on a dope boy, to us, that’s inspiring

Momma stood in the section 8 office

She knew in my block it’s my section 8 office

Your music why I’m hating you

You could be Biggie, son, still no faith in you

Everything I want, I bought

Fuck what you thought

Everything I want, I bought

Fuck what you thought

Time to bring New York back to life like

We riding all night like

Say I’m next on the mic like

Everything gonna go, go

I rap my ass off, spit your best rhyme

Louis, Skully,…show the fresh line

9/11 black Porsche hit the red line…

My feet up in Cabo

Load the planes, I’m keyed up like Pablo

This no fucking the streets up like potholes

New range bleed guts, the chalk charcoal

It’s not a game but I dare you

I hear you the biggest Harlem names who I’m compared to

Just to stay in shape I move a square or two

And keep a lease to these ceiling, that’s when I stay in coupes

I’m on Ciroc Almaretto, drive the fastest…till I crash with the Devil

I need a pass in the ghetto, squeezing Glocks with the metal

Keep a stash in my pillow, the other half with my fellows

Everything I want, I bought

Fuck what you thought

Everything I want, I bought

Fuck what you thought

Time to bring New York back to life like

We riding all night like

Say I’m next on the mic like

Everything gonna go, go

Fred the God, French on the mic

Vado want a verse, New York, what a love

I cash…I ghost ride, I pass words like a crow

Old time, we just got a new maid

Still move the pills, the prescription for the pay

Still move the grills, it’s description what you made

Brick under six, see you later

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