Cold

Original

-Mike WiLL Made-It.

-Thinking about them cold nights, sleeping in that cold cell. Eating nothing but cold food, they let me out that cold jail.

Soon as I touched down, I had to give them folks hell.

Took off all them jail clothes, showered off that jail smell.

I don't need no wishing well, I'ma buy my bitch Chanel. Keep it real, she paid the bail. Kept it real, no kiss and tell.

Shout out to the cartel. Fuck the opps, they called 12.

I been trapping since twelve. Selling nicks and bricks and bales. Narcotics and plenty scales.

Glass bowls and pocket scales. Burglar bars and cameras. Before my life was glamorous.

I shine like a camera. I kept all the amateurs. 5. 56 will damage ya.

We don't tote no Derringers. Go check the thermometer. We bloodied the furniture.

We hit at his mama house. I heard it woke his mama up. I'ma keep the chopper tucked.

Run up if you think you tough. Playing with all that funny stuff.

They found his body in the bluff. Poker face, we never bluff. Play with them, don't play with us.

We got toys like Toys R Us. The chop so long, it's folding up.

Where my boys, they rolling up. They look young, they old enough.

Hell nah, they ain't old as us, but try us, they gon' spray your bus.

Thinking about them cold nights, sleeping in that cold cell.

-What, what, what, what.

-Eating nothing but cold food, they let me -out that cold jail. -Yeah, what's up? What's happening, boy?

-What's happening? Man, hold up.

-Soon as I touched down, I had to give them -folks hell. -Look, look.

Took off all them jail clothes, showered off that jail smell.

Bounce out of the BOP. Still toting that stick on me.

-I got it. -All these hoes trying to fuck.

-What? -I ain't giving no dick for free.

-At all. -All these people wanna show.

-What? -Need that bag, C. O. D.

All these lil' slick posts, save that shit to me in the street.

-What's happening? -Smashed all my old beef.

-Beef. -Snatched out my old teeth.

-Teeth.

-One by one, I'm coming to collect from -everybody that owe me. -Everybody.

-Real killers, they know me. -They know me.

-Real street niggas mold me. -Mold me.

Better be able to see your hands you ever try to approach me.

-Let me see them hands. -Feds got me burnt out.

-Out. -Still a little institutionalized.

-Damn. -Nigga, that shit was real.

Seen a nigga -stabbed to death right before my eyes. -Whoopty.

-Beat Chisel and Gucci Mane. -Mane.

-You know this shit gon' ride. -Ride.

From Yazoo to Polack. Fed niggas might start a riot.

Thinking about them cold nights, sleeping in that cold cell.

If that shit be stuck, nigga, they can't pick him up, nigga.

Soon as I touched down, I had to give them folks hell.

-Had to give them niggas hell. -Took off all them jail clothes.

If that shit be stuck, nigga, they can't pick him up, nigga.

-Showered off that jail smell. -Mike WiLL.

Beat Chisel.

Gucci Mane.

Now this what the street wanted to hear.

Shit too real.