Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Contraband, artist - Fred The Godson. Date of issue: 05.03.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Contraband |
| 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 up out the frat house |
| High side weird look, and gazelle frames |
| Niggas know me by Friday October cold name |
| Back in the days that fiends doing the fuckin 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 Johnny Coltrane |
| Have that work for these hez, they call me raw game |
| In front of the peas, blowing trees with a gold chain |
| New York City greedy fifth’s on stand |
| Never know when you gotta use that contraband |
| My whole crew good with the pan |
| This is soul food, getting good amount of yams |
| Before you leave here, count your grams |
| Baking soda bubble 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 fuck 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 sonogram |
| Got to look up in my mama belly and found contraband |
| I caught em up town and then I checked em |
| He wasn’t living right, so my nigga left him |
| All these niggas living that life, till a nigga test em |
| Like all these bitches love me |
| We kick it like David Beckham |
| Crack music, hit maker, |
| Fred The God, October OZ was the beat maker |
| I beat the case what I feel for |
| Mama say she ready to fuck, what she need a pill for |
| It’s not a game when I will kill 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 nigga |
| My whole crew good with the pan |
| This is soul food, getting good amount of yams |
| Before you leave here, count your grams |
| Baking soda bubble 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 fuck taxes, this is contraband |
| Whoever know, my revenue pay from ex to dust |
| Something like a revenue |
| My leather new, I get 7 a scale |
| Learn to work with a bird like Kevin Mccall |
| I talk to these birds like Doctor Doolittle |
| I’ll pop you with a bird that doctor do little |
| Your block could do little, I ain’t doing the counting |
| But you re up with me, it’s just a pale of balance |
| And you see me every other week |
| You niggas is fucking weak |
| Get bread, not whole weed will pump a nigga |
| These little niggas take a whole week to pump a nigga |
| I’m talking quarters, halfs bein 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 sturdy handshake |
| My whole crew good with the pan |
| This is soul food, getting good amount of yams |
| Before you leave here, count your grams |
| Baking soda bubble 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 fuck taxes, this is contraband |