Cold Flames

Fuck the world I can say that twice, sippin Ray Rice on that crushed ice
I ain't got time for no love life, I'm above my average height
I'm walking on clouds suspended in air, tryna live my life prepared
For a nigga hating, bitch pop off since you wanna stare
Finna shut the city down, me and Mula going up
Cousin plugged with the lean, so Trip Judah pouring up
Bitch I know you know it's us, and I know yo hoe gon' fuck
Soon as Trip start rollin up, hell nah bitch come match a blunt

Ooooooh
You gon' fall into the wrong thangs
Ooooooh
Too bad ya boy propane
Ooooooh
It's a fire on the Eastside
Guess that's me sparking cold flames
Ooooooh
You gon' fall into the wrong thangs
Ooooooh
Too bad ya boy propane
Ooooooh
It's a fire on the Eastside
Guess that's me sparking cold flames
Ooooooh

You gon' fall into the wrong things
If I ever fall, it's in pussy or from champagne
Nooooo
I ain't worried bout no fucking fame
Give a fuck if you know my name, just as long as I'm getting paid
Fuck talking bout minimum wage
Yes I'll talk about pay for pay
Hundred racks just to paper play
Need enough to not fit my safe
Fuck credit I need paper paid
Better not play with my K
Better mark what I say
Better know when I spit it's all heat, just cold flames

Ooooooh
You gon' fall into the wrong thangs
Ooooooh
Too bad ya boy propane
Ooooooh
It's a fire on the Eastside
Guess that's me sparking cold flames
Ooooooh
You gon' fall into the wrong thangs
Ooooooh
Too bad ya boy propane
Ooooooh
It's a fire on the Eastside
Guess that's me sparking cold flames
Ooooooh

Ooooooh
You gon'... you gon'
Ooooooh
You gon'... you gon'
Ooooooh



Credits
Writer(s): Anthony Harris
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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