Fredo

**Consistency is key but hard when you’re mixin’ Gs**

Still dishin’ keys, sorry if you’re missin’ me—**listen**.

Walk with jewels to change lives, gotta keep a pipe for the same price.

Races from feds at night, now we racin’ in Dubai.

Trapped, switched to the mic, but beef’s engraved in my life.

Lost brothers, names in ice; caught slippers, made ’em pay the price.

**Youngins ready to take a life**, I break ’em off a slice.

Block smokier than Jamaican nights. Racist suits fist-bump, not shake hands—

Judge my plans before I speak. Booth sessions fund rentals, bricks, bail, phones.

Crew’s fire: sticks lost could start a blaze. Focused on business, still drippin’ flyer.

**Clowns chat my name**—never left shit to sleep in rain.

Find me where the P’s get made. BM weeps in the Range; daughter’s absence aches.

If I sit too long, dreams fade. Mum’s pain, Dad MIA.

Chains turned to planes—**legally and illegally paid**. Quit rap? Stream away.

**Pipe hoes, need a wife**—die alone with ice? Nights scary, eyes wide.

How we got lo’ on your bro—sky’s his home now. Survive daily, knife on hip.

Dubai peace? Only when eyes close. Designer to self-made: trackies from my mind.

Stock sold online, trap to tech. Dubai clubs flashback to ’42.

**OGs locked for hammers**; free uncs—no camera phones back then.

Feds chase, blame killings, stain image. Girls chase Birkins, jails whisper certis.

**Kept faith, worked, prevailed**. Hate hid, cake split—hurt us both.

No game, chains flirt. Coke twerks scales. Sad story turned penthouse Bourne.

**Pain fuels mills and souls**. Book visits for Stroll, Black’s, LD.

Meetings with designers, cash to VD. Kick Game hype—jail bros need kicks.

Real names on lists—can’t say no. Ten jibs to find addresses, equipped for one in wigs.

**Gobis’ mum snitched—.38 turned son’s fate**. Credit from the strip: house on wrist first.

Streets crave Fred’s heat. Rap vs. dad vs. bread—**lose either, I’m dead**.

Block calls me different; back too much, back to prison. Bad bitches, bad decisions.

**Rap won’t last—handle business** or beg for flowers later.

Real hustlers pluck ’em as they grow. Made snow into blooms, stove hours.

60K a show, flexin’ broke vibes. **Good rapper, dad, boss? No cape’s enough**.

**Gempar? Showered with blades**. Emirates first-class, mountains of ’Caine.

Lambos priced like chains. London’s none like me. Blame? Found my lane.

**No handouts—drain to brain bullets**. Streets test: invest in vests, snatch breaths.

2020 West bodies stacked. Slippin’ breakfast, snatched necks—drunk reckless.

Girls eye deathwish chains. Blood paid for these. Issues haunt Fred’s career.

**Woo gone—Peek-a-boo** sleeps. Mind who you speak to. Shooters creep, no clues.

Rolls like I need a poo. Ceiling stars, 7K rent views. Billy’s ghost laughs.

**Streets a myth**—real niggas preach: *life’s not worth it*.

××× smooth end ××@