Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Cold Room - S1 - E6, artist - Mixtape Madness. Date of issue: 18.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Cold Room - S1 - E6 |
| I just passed that to bro and he moved that, used that |
| Put an opp boy in this 2Pac |
| Make bread so the gang still stack, no lack |
| No cap get bun in my pack |
| Dressed in black like Jack, gets shots like Yak |
| Beef gang get one in your back |
| Keylo too sav, we’re the getback gang |
| Pop gun, make him dance then bang |
| They say that I’m famous, diamond making |
| Tryna put M’s in my mummy’s savings |
| Flicks and paigons, ain’t no brazin' |
| They’re lucky I ain’t no producer |
| Cause on the streets man’s got most business |
| Leave a hole in your bone like a donor |
| Then I go buss in your girl no blazin' |
| Been a fortnight and the opps ain’t rid back |
| Storm on the block tryna find more |
| 2 dot dots, no ratio |
| Bruck-down dingers, reverse that, put him in the boot |
| Fling mine in my back strap, in a back strap |
| If my back straps I’m gonna aim and shoot |
| Send man to the doctors with stuff pains |
| If you don’t duck when the toy goes boom |
| If you don’t duck when the toy goes boom |
| Haha, you know I don’t play by the rules |
| 015' in the field with a rambo |
| Mummy didn’t know I was playing with tools |
| 016' I was life in a bando |
| Elastic bands and rock with fuel |
| I don’t wanna hear that the opps got guns |
| Cause really and truly the bullet goes to you |
| On your marks, get set, and I won’t come last |
| One wrong move and I let that blast |
| Alhamdulillah to my Muslim paigons |
| You can get chinged while you’re on your fast |
| Went OT with a four and a half |
| Young G made back like four and a half |
| Can’t slide to my block, cause we’re tearing guts |
| And we’re going on glides fully unmasked |
| Countless rides with my latex on |
| Usain Bolt when I see a boy run |
| Do a Tiger Woods, put a hole in one |
| Fuck Snapchat, come crash back, bare talk |
| Bare talk on my niggas, it’s cool |
| Ain’t slid back, go road for your goon |
| And wagwan for them ***** yutes |
| Seen em live in the flesh and that kid gon' mute |
| Uh, ***** got yinged like twice |
| Big ***** could’ve lost his life |
| No way, no way can they talk on my guys |
| Bro’s out tryna switch off lights |
| And he’s on the next block tryna build his line |
| No time for them stupid nines |
| See the opp boys talk, get smoked by the nine |
| Do it for the gang and do it for my guys |
| There’s inches on the block, no Tintin |
| On the opp block where the gang keep touring |
| Spill that, see how his juice keeps pouring |
| Attempted K, have your madre mourning |
| Yo, back out the smoke and light up the strip |
| Black pumpy, put him in the air like Jordan |
| Juice man’s back, Calypso |
| And tell him to battle with my Ramsey, no Gordon |
| Turn a man handicapped, no cap |
| Wanna cap man’s wig cause my two’s get handy |
| Glide round there on wheels, no handy |
| I got two legs like Champions League |
| Live a sweet life and it’s sweet like candy |
| Fill up the mash with sweets, no candy |
| Sweet one, check out my K, no candy |
| I ain’t tryna beat that loud, I beat |
| She rude and dead, can’t fuck with me |
| Real bad boy, don’t run up on me |
| My bro got caught at a messy scene |
| Still say no words like Mr. Bean |
| I been outside with my 92 team |
| Pop them doors, better move your seat |
| Drilled and banged, done that on repeat |
| Jump out gang, let the guns them beat |
| I done drills in a four-door whip |
| Tryna off man’s wig like a black girl coming on smoke |
| Bring a man’s insides out when I ying that |
| Turn a man inside out getting poked |
| I really move weight in the street |
| See an opp in the street lift him up in the air no joke |
| Sleep on the gang till we pull up at main man |
| Sleep on a hospital bed stay woke |
| Made man run out the block like chicken |
| Me, I’m well-known for the main road drillings |
| I still take that risk for my siblings |
| I don’t even cook, but I roll with my kitchen |
| Finger-twitching, the opps I’m billin' |
| The thing goes bow three times, good riddance |
| I never chose this life, this life chose me |
| So I pray to the Lord, man’s sinning |