Dutty Laundry

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Harry Fraud

Rory William Quigley (born January 26, 1987), known professionally as Harry Fraud, is an American record producer and composer. Primarily a hip hop producer, Fraud began producing at an early age and began interning at a recording studio after graduating high school. First discovered by French Montana during a recording session in Chinatown in early 2009, Fraud has gone on to become a fixture in the New York underground and mixtape scene. He gained mainstream attention when his song with French Montana "Shot Caller" became one of the most added tracks on urban contemporary radio between 2011-2012.Fraud has produced collaborative records with various rappers, such as Flight 2011 (2011) with Chinx Drugz; Rugby Thompson (2012) with Smoke DZA; Cigarette Boats (20… more »

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When we slap the color, ain't no fraud, but we're in ends
Hot box exotic now we're fried in the Benz
Quarter million, my bitch want neck-a-lace's
When we hit the store, we ball get crossed like Saint Francis
I tune out the city when I hot box exotic
Everything upgraded, I got fuel pumped by Holly
My SS robotic, move like Wall-E
How I leave the exit far away from where I be
You know, I don't even start no colony, no mommy
I'm in Gucci like a mixtape, no dutty laundry

Launched off the block in sedan raunchy
I just got the seats redid peach look like lunch meat 
I got sand sandals cuffs on at the beach, know something block me
I got sand sandals cuffs on at the beach, know something block me
You know, ain't no double what?
ARP, you said watch me, what?
I'm all energy, just like Sage
When I hit the break, I do nine to five, just like a wage
Let me make this clear, five percent tint, that not clear
Bitch wanna ride my private like Frontier
When I pour the lean inside my cup, it disappear
I make the scope spot on like a freckle
When I made a right in the Hellcat, I'm about to let go
Cherry Range Rover, I pull up picky
When she lick me, I pull up, I show up just like Hickey
In that Tesla truck, I do many miles, just like Mickey
Backwood loud, now, you in form, just like Dickies
I rode Backwoodl, bitch, like ATV
We slap, call out, we ain't do no fraud, but we in Benz
We hot box exotic, now we fried in a Benz
$1,500 frames, non-prescripted lens
Quarter million, my bitch want neck-a-laces
When we hit the store, we ball get crossed like St. Francis

Everything upgraded, I got fuel pumped by Holly
My SS robotic, move like Wall-E
How I leave the exit far away from where I be
You know, I don't even start no colony, no mommy
I'm in Gucci like a mixtape, no dutty laundry

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