Lyrics Cold - Sam Lachow, Nacho Picasso, Ryan Campbell

Cold

No drawls on your girl I’m goosing her
God’s child but I’m horny as Lucifer
So hung, that she thought I was noosing her
Come her, treat my life like a booster chair
Dark skin, but she Punky Brewster hair
Cut a Mohawk, now she got rooster hair
I hear moaning from the bathroom, who’s in there?
Know at least one bow wanna… in there (?)
When I step in the room they think Zeus in here
How I piss them all off, I’m the goose in here
They call me Nacho, just like Libre
Invite your BFF, we can have us a three-way
The lines last forever, we can have us a freeway
I stick to the plan, I’ll be downed if I pre-pay
He brave, kissed the mouth full of bj’s
She just left the Moor Gang, sexing
For three days
Merry fucking Christmas
Let’s kill this bottle in like four or five minutes
You stay the night, at least do the fucking dishes
I say that to the
Misses
You don’t like white boys?
I promise you I’m different
You don’t know that shit
Big business, I’m a grown ass kid
You don’t notice, you bogus
So let’s take a long ride
Hop in the whip, you roll with Sammy tonight
Now tell your man take a hike
Kid I’m an artist when I spark it
Picasso on a bong bowl
It’s Rembrandt on a blunt wrap
Got them all singing along though
Flick that Bic my dude, can’t you see that it’s a snow day
Fingers barely moving, still I Monet when I roll J’s
It’s ok, take a seat, grab your sleigh, blow that sweet
If we have some problems they melted like snow under our feet
Grown ass kids, still smoking in the cold
Man you only live once, might as well never get old