| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars
|
| Lost in this
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| Burning down the building as we stepping in it
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| Ashes in the wake
|
| You better be praying for the second killing
|
| Coming in and I be dodging acid raindrops
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| Walking on the faultic tell em with my ray johns
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| Screaming till my veins pop, dang dog
|
| Knocking on my dang mom, out came claw town
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| Bomb with my brains off
|
| You thinking that you smart but I’m sparking and Sherlockian
|
| And dog Watson hopped up into the hose bobbin'
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| A juggernaut I can talk to by chuckin' vodka
|
| Not in the head start for the hip and then hop and you playin' possum
|
| But I got a lot of coffins that cost and yep clocks
|
| We was get up on the block and mouth my damn rock
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| And i rolled this whole dang rap game up
|
| Puff you bum fucks till I’m knockin' my lungs
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| You got to be choppin' another chip off my block to be double gang
|
| Bangin on me baby, I be slaying you for salt like
|
| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars
|
| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars
|
| Alabaster caster with curses
|
| I’m putting that work in
|
| Serving that bippity boppity boop
|
| I’m that machine ya petty vermin
|
| Better turn my sermon
|
| I’m more than certain
|
| Leave you tatted on your back
|
| Spread ass for click-clack curtains
|
| You put derp in a serpent
|
| My serpent curbin' you perps with a purpose
|
| Sherman in the goal with my guns in the girly twerkin'
|
| With the babblin' and blurbin
|
| Have me stabbing and swerving
|
| Drinking Molotovs mixed in the gas with a Bourbon
|
| King Kong, filthy thing God, with the drink God
|
| Peep hot fire, crack rock, pinky ring gone
|
| Sun gone, fire flame mound, red dawn
|
| Devil dance on, spit on your grave
|
| Meet Mr. Manson
|
| Pants off, pants off, with your grandma
|
| Man grown, I’m the mad dog, from the sandlot
|
| Hacksaw, dug on that sauce, smash all
|
| Crash God, fuck em boi, sick call cancer
|
| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars
|
| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars
|
| Bitch, I’m a cold motherfucker
|
| Fuckboi, dig yourself a hole motherfucker
|
| Who you gonna be weavin' and duckin'
|
| Chickens getting the pluck
|
| Leave you tarred and feathered, next to nothing
|
| Below zero climate, world weather warning
|
| Ignite me, firestorm, calling up where I was born
|
| Hell yeah, hellbound, hellhound
|
| Pushing through the snow
|
| Burn you down in your hometown
|
| Don’t feed the basement, leg after leg
|
| I can’t lead a lamb, but the lamb on a lead
|
| My ville go-getter, nobody does it better
|
| You like a hiker with no sweater
|
| I’m the coming cold weather
|
| I’m Frank Sinatra, this my troublesome opera
|
| Shocked terrible with my Mr. Spock yeah
|
| Left stun glass galled over the floor
|
| Tapped out and tearing out, please no more
|
| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars
|
| It’s a cold cold world but I’m bringing that fire
|
| A full cooked press when you play us and the rest
|
| Cause its gang gang meant for no fuckboi liars |