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-хопCold 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 |