Lyrics Fred The Godson – American Hustler

Intro:
Uh, Fred The Godson aka Big Bronx
I’d like to welcome y’all, to ah, (gonna talk about it) the show
I’m so witty with it

Fred The Godson:
Fred (Fred), good feel, he got them lines and all
You ain’t real, what you rhymin’ for?
The nines I draw
I shot him in that restaurant
And left him a fossil, the whole diner saw, hah (woo!)
Labels sayin’ I’ma sign for sure
‘Cause when I flow I appeal to ’em, Tylenol (okay)
Nicer than me, you couldn’t find a boy (nah)
I got the mic, you Harold Miner, no?! (Nah)
Uh, I move strategic
Don’t question me unless it’s ’bout some millions, Regis (Regis)
I can’t conceited, just gotta see it, I breathe this
You nice ’cause you in a good mood, I don’t believe this
Tryin’ too hard, ha, you make me laugh (hahaha)
I flow smoother than a baby’s ass
I’m the go to, I’ll coach you, just pay me cash
I won’t coach you on the arm, ladies bag

Tyler Woods:
Ooohh, I might remind you of a hustler
Ooouu, a hustler (hustler)

Fred The Godson:
Flow cash, just somethin’ to bank with
So them lines I dress it up, banquet (banquet)
I tried to dumb it down, just some shit they can’t get
They can’t spit (can’t spit)
Hah, you see my checks get cheese like the W-I-C
And make ya hoe tell like the W, I see (hahaha)
Hah, I’m a
?, they
?
With the rock, I keep the fiends high see (see)
Makin’ ’em nervous, why you spittin’ for? (Why?)
?
walk to the service, biddin’ war (woo!)
New body Tahoe, the block swervin’
Since March 9th I never did like them box Suburbans (rest in peace Big)
I’m smooth like a finger roll, Gervin (Gervin)
I gain weight, but I still got it, Earvin (Earvin)
Get it? Now you learnin’
Magic, real name Earvin, Tyler sing the sermon

Tyler Woods:
Hey, I might remind you of a hustler
Ooouu, a hustler (hustler)
Aah, yeah, I might remind you of a gangsta
Ooouu, a gangsta (gangsta)
Hah, tell me

Fred The Godson:
I’m too witty with it, really run the city with it
Got the semi, you don’t really wanna see me with it (nah)
Ten stacks in 20s, I’m obsessed
Like Florence, Jeffersons made me a mess, hah (woo!)
They say I maybe the best
We can play like mother may, you made me upset
We can say in the month of May, I made me a Lex
Way the fiends touch the base, say I may meet the Mets, yes
They front ’til the hammer spray (spray)
Black wife beater, come here Anna May (hahahaha)
The Desert Easy I got it loaded
And I got diabetes so I can’t sugar coat it (nah)
Think about the lines The Source should’ve quoted
If it sounds like mines, then who you thought done wrote it? (Fred)
I help winnin’
I rap in a Shaq jersey, I’m self centered
Hah, wait a minute

Tyler Woods:
Ooohh, I might remind you of a hustler
Ooouu, a hustler (hustler)
Aah, yeah, I might remind you of a gangsta
Ooouu, a gangsta (gangsta)
Hah, tell me

Oouuu, ahhh, gonna talk about it