Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Coldest, artist - Freddie Gibbs. Date of issue: 02.08.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Coldest |
| Ah, nigga still don’t get it |
| Yeah, bitch, i’m ten toes in it |
| Fo' sho, G. I |
| Fo' sho, Gibbs, baby |
| Shut, baby |
| Bitch I’m ten toes in it |
| Not a fake a facade or a cloned image |
| Got into rap same way I jumped in the streets |
| With my own spinach |
| Tryin' to get straight up off this shit just so I can go on livin' |
| No song spinnin' so I resort to this zone flippin' |
| Something must be wrong wit em, he takin' this shit for granted |
| Try to write up in the house with no lights, you’ll understand it |
| I can’t teach ya how to dougie |
| But I can teach ya bout this thuggin' |
| Keepin' it thorough, keep your mouth closed, nigga |
| Keep it one-hundred |
| Keep yo hand up out my goddamn pocket |
| And keep it pushin' |
| Keep the reefer keep the white |
| Keep the soft and just keep it cookin' |
| But keep in mind that any given day you can die for this |
| As I bag this dope I’m prayin' one day that I could just |
| Make an honest piece of change, prolly change the way I live |
| MJ fadeaway, and something niggas can’t defend |
| Gangsta Gibbs, fresh out the fridge, forty below flow |
| No introduction needed, cause niggas already know so |
| The coldest, nigga |
| You already know this |
| I’m the motherfuckin' coldest |
| You sayin' that you did that, lived that |
| But you ain’t quite this, nigga |
| Cause you already noticed |
| I’m the motherfuckin coldest |
| I keep it really real |
| Sayin' what the fuck I feel |
| So let me talk my shit |
| So what you talkin' bout, bitch? |
| Really ain’t shit if you ain’t talk bout this |
| I’m runnin' laps around these rappers scratchin' em off my lists |
| She off that vodka so it’s hard for her to stay off my dick |
| Tryin' get rich and let the dollars flow throughout my click |
| So we can break bread and never ever be broken |
| Yac toastin', exotic bitches on my balcony smokin |
| Weed turns them out without a doubt |
| They mouth about to be open |
| I let Alicia put her tongue on Valerie while I’m strokin' |
| But I ain’t Jack Tripper, I’m that nigga plain and simple |
| Fresh out the G to MTV, check the credentials |
| Ain’t been a nigga bigger since the Jacksons left the city |
| Reppin' the hardest niggas ain’t know |
| That we was rappin' in my city |
| And regardless if I got support or backin' from my city |
| They’ll remember me as the the nigga |
| That got it crackin' for my city, nigga |
| And on the mic I never have off nights |
| Cause every line I write is straight frostbite, nigga |
| The motherfuckin' coldest, bitch |
| I’m on fire |
| To keep the streets hot, that’s my desire |
| And to hell with the labels |
| Till it’s time for us to sit down at the table |
| If I don’t focus on me |
| Tell me, who will? |
| And I speak from my heart |
| So you know I’mma keep it real |
| So much bullshit in the last six months tried to take my focus |
| But on a lotta situations them people have to hocus pocus |
| If anybody ever asks a dumb question like «Will BJ make it?» |
| Give them a dollar and say «God bless you, cause you must be a basehead» |