ft. Bam Vito
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These birds I'mma whip away like I'm working for chick fillet
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Hope I flip a brick today, fix it up like I'm AAA
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Get tired doing rims and them tires
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Day you retire start rocking different attire
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Not me, I got them buyers, no thanks, far from buyers
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No shame, I could divide it, tryna get Benjamin Franks
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I'm just tryna be frank like propriety
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What an old can do, a pea can, mixed up the prize
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My bride is the streets, I'm tryna get rich, I'm tryna to beat this out
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I'm a standup guy, the grams cut wide
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The fans upside down, the pans all dry
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Trap house in the back, in an hour flat I can fill the room
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This is poverty still, throw me a silver spoon 'cause
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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Oh, see the whip is grinning
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Yeah, the windows tinted
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I got whatever they need
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Tell 'em please give a minute 'cause
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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B12, that propane, cocaine's that code name
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Old brain and that old rain to blow cane through old veins
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I seen them
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This fiend was anemic but like my ball he used off
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For my dishes to clean it up
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Whip that all self nigga, diamonds, quarters, half hoes, fine grind
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Time is not for the scramblers, the D on that corner
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Your workers move like salmons, the guap being that linked on
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Drug spot with that mink, though
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They cop Os, they don't think, though
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I cop peas, I'm like'still over that sink, though
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I can fill a room, probably be poverty still
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Put me a silver spoon 'cause
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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Oh, see the whip is grinning
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Yeah, the windows tinted
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I got whatever they need
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Tell 'em please give a minute 'cause
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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Ok, it's Vito if you don't know
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Brooklyn hippie, peep this flow
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Smoking heavy, I'm hot as hell
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But my heart be freezing cold
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If frat don't work then trap gonna work
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That's work, work, honest, though
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I sent them young boys at your home
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They don't want your chain, they want your soul
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'in my fruit punch, get the work on the block
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These niggas mad 'cause they out working, got a bunch and a Glock
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And where you're from is where you're at
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Fuck if you fight or if you stretch
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All of these niggas is whack, none of these niggas move packs
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Some might hate but anyone, 'boys with me, they never play
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Funny shit, we all got work but we ain't got no resumes
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Been putting on for so long, used to play the block at night
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Dreams of being rich, I woke up broke, I need my commas right
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Vito
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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Oh, see the whip is grinning
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Yeah, the windows tinted
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I got whatever they need
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Tell 'em please give a minute 'cause
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I'm here stirring it up
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Give it that elbow grease
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-----------------
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Elbow Grease
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| Fred The Godson |
