| 61 to the 9 the city of mine
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| Got motherfuckers running like at Santana High
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| So don’t try using my name for your fame
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| Mad cuz a youngster got a lock on the game
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| What a shame you ain’t the gangster that you claim to be
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| If you’re really balling why the fuck you wanna hate on me
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| Low Pro what? |
| Homey I’m a gangster
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| Amici Park Krazy motherfucker, quick to bank you
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| And shank you with the ice pick
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| Cuz this fat motherfucker claims to have a whole album off my old shit
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| It’s cold shit, but homey fuck it
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| I’ma let this poor fat fuck make a ducket
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| So don’t get it twisted thinking that he owns something
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| Shadow Presents The Mayhem Clique cost me nothing
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| All I wanted was a little bit of weed money
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| That flip a key money, then you wanna talk funny
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| From the youngest to the oldest
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| Hottest to the coldest
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| From the rugged to the boldest
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| I’m the sickest and you know this
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| I make a motherfucker fold when I throw this shit at you
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| You say that you’re this, you say you got that
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| Then homey cock your strap and show me where your heart at
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| Tricky spark that blunt and let these motherfuckers know
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| We can have a gun fight or we could go toe to toe
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| No furies pumped in this young Southsider
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| San Diego rider, shit’s getting tighter
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| Fool step aside, it’s between me and him
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| Anybody wanna trip then it’s us against them
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| That’s the way men handle it, can you hang
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| I put in work with real soldiers, faggot you like to phone bang
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| You know the name, Mr. Shadow all up in this
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| Been nosey trick you need to mind your own business
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| I got your name at the top of the list
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| For being a bitch and running your lips like it ain’t shit
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| You get hit in the ribs with the club
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| Fool you ain’t a G, in the streets you get no love
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| Already let the world know about the acting, yapping
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| Now I gotta talk about your rapping
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| You say that you’re Worldwide, Coast to Coast
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| Fool I’m still the same and requested the most
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| You serve one day and post bail, scared of a cell
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| Cuz you know that they’ll get you for the stories you tell
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| How you’re riding in them low-lows, hanging out with cholos
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| Banging puffing dodo when really you’re rolling solo
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| Talk a lot of shit but you never do nothing
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| Bitch you gotta have a loaded clip to start dumping
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| Got your heart pumping, skipping a beat
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| You diabetic motherfucker you ain’t fucking with me
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| I stay heated, weeded, not guilty’s what I pleaded
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| You call the comp and album cuz my name is what you needed
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| So be it, but fool you need to quit
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| Stop talking out your neck on the phone woofing shit |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hottest To The Coldest , by - Mr. Shadow. Song from the album Gang Files, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп