Lyrics It's Cold - Homeboy Sandman, Steve Arrington

It's Cold

It’s cold, so cold
It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, so cold
Never mind chillin, the cat graze
Secrets to life long nights and last days
City smells like poured bottles and ash trays
There is not enough palm olive
Midnight is when things just starting to take shape
Kids who aren’t ashamed are trying to make names
Captains on take aren’t likely to take breaks
People under age more likely to take aim
People in the pits risk prison or
People look at pics, start crying and break frames
X amount of moves not pretty will take place
Especially when your crew about skinny as great danes
These are teams that might got reason to make change
These are teams that ain’t got pieces to make trades
Squatters aren’t ready to vacate
When the fathers gon' stop going on vaca?
It’s cold, so cold
It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, so cold
No room for your elbows
Started shit wasn’t trying to wait until hell froze
Started veering off the run, start selling shell toes
If only you could pull your eyes away from your cell phone
Laugh to keep from tearing at the tyranny, tell jokes
Anxiety and fear interfere with the pheromones
Bang over bank notes
Embarrassed, a bad soul stripped to the bare bone
Goose downs, bubbles, and bear coats
There they go, repping their area code
Crossroads, early the cop croaks
Foot not in the door means hand on the hot stove
Freeze and put 'em up, those freedoms are not yours
Children aren’t phased, fave flavour is nacho
That and any meat that’s seasoned with
Wires on the saying it’s not so
It’s cold, so cold
It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, so cold
This is the truth (yeah)
The countdown
City is an outhouse lost it and now found
City is a short putt missing the clown’s mouth
City is a two year old begging for pow-pow
City is a lighthouse during a blackout
City is a suede shoe under a black cloud
The city is a stone thrown in the glass house
City is a drunk spouse ready to spaz out
The city got a score to keep and it can’t count
The city be the cats me-owth, only these cats down
But bastards aren’t cast out
Buildings tall as tall tales, easy to cast out
The crackhouse and the crackdown
The yankee caps covering cats brows
Bluds they cold, cold-blooded as reptiles
Project towns, project out