 Song information  On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cold World , by - Genius. Song from the album Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
 Song information  On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cold World , by - Genius. Song from the album Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 22.03.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Wu-Tang
Song language: English
 Song information  On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cold World , by - Genius. Song from the album Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
 Song information  On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cold World , by - Genius. Song from the album Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп| Cold World | 
| «I had a bad dream» | 
| «Don't be afraid, bad dreams are only dreams» | 
| «What a time you chose to be born in» | 
| Babies cryin', brothers dyin', and brothers gettin' knocked | 
| Shit is deep on the block and you got me locked down | 
| In this cold, cold world | 
| It was the night before New Year’s | 
| And all through the fuckin' projects | 
| Not a handgun was silent, not even a TEC | 
| Outsiders were stuck, by enemies who put fear | 
| And blasted on the spot before the pigs were there | 
| You know hoods, robbers, snipers new in sight | 
| Fuck blue and white | 
| They escape before them flash the fuckin' lights | 
| Gunshots shatter first-floor window panes | 
| Shells hit the ground and blood stained the dice game | 
| Whether pro-calisthenic, any style you set it | 
| Beat niggas toothless, physically cut up like gooses | 
| But with iron on the sides, thugs took no excuses | 
| Therefore, your fifty-two handblocks was useless | 
| Linx was snatched off necks, left scars on throats | 
| Jackets took, after bullet rips through coats | 
| Against those who felt the cold from the steel | 
| Made ‘em fold and squeal, once the metal hit the temple of his grill | 
| Construction worker, who was caught for his bomber | 
| No time to swing the hammer that was hangin' from his farmers | 
| And it’s bugged how some niggas catch slugs | 
| And pockets dug from everythin' except check stubs | 
| And it does, sound ill like wars in Brownsville | 
| Or fatal robberies in Red Hook where feds look | 
| For fugitives to shoot cops, niggas layin' on roof tops | 
| For his C.R.E.A.M he stashed in a shoebox | 
| But he was hot, and the strip was filled with young killers | 
| You don’t suspect, so cops creep like caterpillars | 
| And born thieves stay hooded with extra bullets | 
| Those who try to flee, they hit the vertebrae | 
| Increase the murder rate | 
| Similar to hitmen who pull out TECs and then | 
| Drop those who crack like tacos from Mexican | 
| Rapid, like recipients cashin' checks again | 
| Back to the motherfuckin' spot on Lexington | 
| Babies cryin', brothers dyin', and brothers gettin' knocked | 
| Shit is deep on the block and you got me locked down | 
| In this cold, cold world | 
| We be runnin' from the cops, bustin' off shots | 
| Shit is deep on the block and you got me locked down | 
| In this cold, cold world | 
| Yo, no time to freeze, undercovers ease up in Grand Prixs | 
| And seize packages and pocket the currency | 
| Cliques control strips, full clips are sprayed | 
| Yellow tape barricades sidewalks where bodies lay | 
| Madness strikes at twelve o’clock midnight | 
| Stick-up kids on the ground broke the staircase light | 
| And I stays harassed, scramblin' for petty cash | 
| Jakes on my ass, young bucks is learnin' fast | 
| Three-Fifteen-Sevens and Forty-Fours | 
| Bought inside corner stores, provide sparks for wars | 
| Hospital floors surrounded by the law | 
| Homicide questionin' while the Jakes guard the door | 
| My hood stay tense, loyalty puts strength in my team | 
| ‘Cause niggas' main concern is C.R.E.A.M | 
| Some niggas in the jet-black Galant | 
| Shot up the Chinese restaurant for this kid named Lamont | 
| I thought he was dead, but instead, he missed the kid | 
| And hit a twelve-year-old girl in the head, and then fled | 
| Tactical narcotic task force, back off fast | 
| ‘Cause the crime boss is passin' off cash | 
| Extortions for portions of streets, causes beef | 
| Havin' followers of Indians trying to play Chief | 
| You witness the saga, casualties and drama | 
| Life is a script; | 
| I’m not an actor | 
| But the author of a modern-day opera | 
| Where the main character is presidential papers, the dominant factor | 
| You know, you had me | 
| With your sensuous charm | 
| But you looked so alarmed | 
| As I walked on by | 
| Babies cryin', brothers dyin', and brothers gettin' knocked | 
| Shit is deep on the block and you got me locked down | 
| In this cold, cold world | 
| We be runnin' from the cops, bustin' off shots | 
| Shit is deep on the block and you got me locked down | 
| In this cold, cold world | 
| Name | Year | 
|---|---|
| 4th Chamber | 1999 | 
| Money I Made ft. French Montana, Genius | 2014 | 
| Outro | 2015 |