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]