Fred The Godson - Contraband lyrics

I got the whole crew with me Ounces for 2 50 You could believe it or not, it's far from ripley's Please don't try to tempt me, the trigger I squeeze it empty Homie fatigues at ease, you ain't convincing be I smoke good weed and get them packs out Don't look at me different, I came about the frat house High side weird look, and gazelle frames n***as know me by Friday October cold name Back in the days that fiends doing the f**in soul train Ever since my little cousin put me on to the dope game I'm just saying that I know thangs I'm og in these streets, I listen to johhny coltrain Have that work for these hez, they call me raw game In front of the pease, blowing trees with a gold chain New york city greedy fifth's on stand sponsored links Never know when you gotta use that contraband [Hook] My whole crew good with the pan This is soul food, get you good amounts of yams Before you leave here, count your grams Baking soda bubbles that smuggle contraband Contraband, this is contraband I'm a monster with this money, this is contraband I throw some packs to my man Tell the law f** taxes, this is contraband I started off a young crack dealer Now I'm all in the magazines And all I knew is that hustle hustle by any means Let me take em back from the start Back to my son of gram Got to look up in my mama belly and found contraband I caught them up town and then I checked em He wasn't living right, so my n***a left em All these n***as living that life, till a n***a test em like Like all these b**hes love me We kick it like david beckham Crack music, hit maker, Fred the god, october a** was the beat maker I beat the case what I feel for Mama say she ready to f**, what she need a pill for It's not a game when I will k** y'all Hip hop is back to that era, era of real ball And tvm was the movement Let your pistol go or keep moving, it's real n***a [Hook] My whole crew good with the pan This is soul food, get you good amounts of yams Before you leave here, count your grams Baking soda bubbles that smuggle contraband Contraband, this is contraband I'm a monster with this money, this is contraband I throw some packs to my man Tell the law f** taxes, this is contraband Whoever know, my revenue pay from ex to dust Something like a reverend new My leather new, I get 7 a scale Learn to work with a bird like kevin mccall I talk to these birds like doctor dolittle I'll pop you with a bird that doctor do little Your block could do little, I ain't doing the counting But you ree up with me, it's just a pale of balance And you see me every other week You n***as is f**ing weak Get bread, not whole weed will pump a n***a These little n***as take a whole week to pump a n***a I'm talking quarters, half beein broken and chokin I love my daughter's laugh When I do business with cash and earn that cake Like the nba draft, it's just a steady handshake [Hook] My whole crew good with the pan This is soul food, get you good amounts of yams Before you leave here, count your grams Baking soda bubbles that smuggle contraband Contraband, this is contraband I'm a monster with this money, this is contraband I throw some packs to my man Tell the law f** taxes, this is contraband.