Fred The Godson - Contraband Lyrics
[Verse 1:]I got the whole crew with me, ounces for 2 50You could believe it or not, it's far from ripley'sPlease don't try to tempt me, the trigger I squeeze it emptyHomie fatigues at ease, you ain't convincing beI smoke good weed and get them packs outDon't look at me different, I came up out the frat houseHigh side weird look, and gazelle framesNiggas know me by Friday October cold nameBack in the days that fiends doing the *****in soul trainEver since my little cousin put me on to the dope gameI'm just saying that I know thangsI'm OG in these streets, I listen to Johnny ColtraneHave that work for these hez, they call me raw gameIn front of the peas, blowing trees with a gold chainNew York City greedy fifth's on standNever know when you gotta use that contraband[Hook:]My whole crew good with the panThis is soul food, getting good amount of yamsBefore you leave here, count your gramsBaking soda bubble that smuggle contrabandContraband, this is contrabandI'm a monster with this money, this is contrabandI throw some packs to my manTell the law ***** taxes, this is contraband[Verse 2:]I started off a young crack dealerNow I'm all in the magazinesAnd all I knew is that hustle hustle by any meansLet me take em back from the start, back to my sonogramGot to look up in my mama belly and found contrabandI caught em up town and then I checked emHe wasn't living right, so my nigga left himAll these niggas living that life, till a nigga test emLike all these *****es love meWe kick it like David BeckhamCrack music, hit maker,Fred The God, October OZ was the beat makerI beat the case what I feel forMama say she ready to *****, what she need a pill forIt's not a game when I will kill y'allHip hop is back to that era, era of real ballAnd TVM was the movementLet your pistol go or keep moving, it's real nigga[Hook:]My whole crew good with the panThis is soul food, getting good amount of yamsBefore you leave here, count your gramsBaking soda bubble that smuggle contrabandContraband, this is contrabandI'm a monster with this money, this is contrabandI throw some packs to my manTell the law ***** taxes, this is contraband[Verse 3:]Whoever know, my revenue pay from ex to dustSomething like a revenueMy leather new, I get 7 a scaleLearn to work with a bird like Kevin MccallI talk to these birds like Doctor DoolittleI'll pop you with a bird that doctor do littleYour block could do little, I ain't doing the countingBut you re up with me, it's just a pale of balanceAnd you see me every other weekYou niggas is *****ing weakGet bread, not whole weed will pump a niggaThese little niggas take a whole week to pump a niggaI'm talking quarters, halfs bein broken and chokinI love my daughter's laughWhen I do business with cash and earn that cakeLike the NBA draft, it's just a sturdy handshake[Hook:]My whole crew good with the panThis is soul food, getting good amount of yamsBefore you leave here, count your gramsBaking soda bubble that smuggle contrabandContraband, this is contrabandI'm a monster with this money, this is contrabandI throw some packs to my manTell the law ***** taxes, this is contraband
