Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ice Cold, artist - BabyDate of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ice Cold |
| Ladies and Gentlemen, this young man is the author of the book |
| Pimps are people too |
| He is also the president of guns, bitches, and automobiles |
| He also controls all the seafood trade |
| He got, the skrimps, the lobsters, the primes |
| The selmon, the little selmon, the big selmen |
| The sardines, the cardads, and all that |
| Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and give a warm welcome |
| To Jay fizzle, my nizzle, fo shizzle |
| (Turn up J. Fizzle’s microphone) |
| Tell me why, why, is it soo |
| That I’m soo-oh, ice cold (ice cold) |
| Tell me why, why, is it soo |
| That I’m soo-oh, ice cold |
| Stunner and T Kizzie, thats so icey |
| Mommy gave me rangs on the back of my bikey |
| I got the mink coat for wifey, wifey |
| Icey icey, my wifey wifey |
| They should have named me Dr. Freeze |
| Cause I’m the coldest nigga y’all done seen |
| The day that rap met r&b |
| Got the birdman, Jazze, and me |
| Ay, ay, see I’m so icey, my life so cool |
| So so icey, the boys a fool |
| Ice from iceman, I ice my boo |
| Iced all over, from my head to her shoe |
| Ice in the mail from Jacob boo |
| I got a million dollar prala seat behind ya too |
| It’s million dollar mob thats behind me boo |
| Now watch what the fuck I do |
| (Wipe em down, wipe em down, biatch) |
| Tell me why, why, (whyyy) is it soo (is it soo) |
| That I’m soo-oh, ice cold (so ice cold) |
| Tell me why, why, is it soo, (tell me whyyy) soo |
| That I’m soo-oh, ice cold |
| Ay, ay, T Kizzie, r&b round |
| I put ice on my mom, and my sister too |
| It’s mister icey icey, in the burgendy coupe |
| I’d ice my grand-daddy, if he still was here |
| On the white-wall tires, with them white-wall rims |
| The million dollar ice, ice pumped up boots |
| I got ice all over, with the million dollar shoes |
| Look at iced up dro back, iced up me |
| Watch #18 as he kill the cit-ty |
| Put ice on my benz, on the 20 inch rims |
| And I ice my lens with the burberry tims |
| I got ice on my wrist, too cold to melt |
| Pinky ring, icey icey, in a bird nest |
| I’m from the ice clique, we unexplainably rich |
| Whole lot of hits, whole lot of chips |
| C-O the birdman, whole lot of bricks |
| Put it all together, thats a whole lot of shit |
| Ay, ay, T Kizzie, big pimpin |
| I got million dollar game, with as fly as freak |
| Princess, bigness, ice on my teeth |
| Round shape, we shape, my shit is a fool |
| I got 15 karats, icey ice my boo |
| Went to the corner, you can see me |
| I’m in the ice cold six four, smokin dro |
| Ballin nice and e-z, ss that I bought from fresh |
| With the Cali license plate that read L.A. is best |
| Big Wop is iced out, and Ceedi iced out |
| Tiny-toe, big g, my rounds iced out |
| And Exey icey hot, and busy is too |
| We get money, spit ice, and wear gucci suits |
| Let me tell you bout what we are, is what we are |
| Ice cold money makin, see ya marra |
| And we gon keep ballin til they close the bar |
| And do the same damn thing tomarra |
| Oh yeah, oh yeah |
| Fo sho nigga, y’all know who want this ice shit |
| For this game nigga, it ain’t no secret |
| See ya morra for life nigga |
| My whole crew shinnin nigga |
| Busy, birdman, third world magnolia, biatch |
| Say T Queezie, your too hot for me pimpin |
| See you stunnin, and you talk enough shit to make a cripple man walk |
| I’m a tell you like this dog |
| See Jimmy you holdin down back there nigga, keep your head up |
| Say Elton, you still one of the hottest niggas out there nigga |
| You ain’t front at all nigga, keep ya head up, biatch |
| My brothers in this shit ya heard me, biatch, biatch |
| Brrrrrrrrrrrrr, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr |
| Birdcall motherfucker, birdcall motherfucker |