Ice Cold
Yall already know, y'all already know
Shit's already froze, grab your winter coat
I'm ice cold, yeah, I'm ice cold
I'm nice, yo, on the mic, yo
Y'all already know, y'all already know
Shit's already froze, grab your winter coat
I'm ice cold, I'm ice cold
I'm nice, yo, I'm nice, yo
I am the truth, you need a boost, I'm caffeine
We on still, I be in the booth with the beam like I'm John Wilkes
This is not a drill, I hit yo mama still
I slap yo daddy, I guess I gotta chill, yeah I'm on for real
I'm nasty, Mufucka come and ask me
I'ma slap a rapper like a ass cheek, I never finish last
Yeah, I'ma hit it fast, I be getting ass while I'm in the backseat
Blood fed, what's next, no drug test, you cannot pass me
Same day, same plan, I'm feeling like a made man
I keep a couple bitches up in the kitchen with the aprons
Them quarters on me like a lemonade stand
You need an 8th but can't order, I don't wait cause I'm impatient
I sold my soul for like eight grand, not to Satan
But to some little chick with a fake tan
I'm an ape man, swinging through this fucking city with this k tucked in my waistband
My fit might just run you eight grand
And we be thuggin, coming through mean muggin, you bugging
You, saying nothing, we coming, we stuntin, then fuck the function up
Family function, more like alien abduction
Sucking you up into nothing like your mother, tell your brother
He ain't nothing either, singing like he Justin Bieber
I'ma have him ducking cleavers up in Cleveland, you must be blind, Venetian
She likes a Bible preacher, telling me that I need Jesus
Honestly, I believe ya, but I don't need ya, bye Felicia
Shit's already froze, grab your winter coat
I'm ice cold, yeah, I'm ice cold
I'm nice, yo, on the mic, yo
Y'all already know, y'all already know
Shit's already froze, grab your winter coat
I'm ice cold, I'm ice cold
I'm nice, yo, I'm nice, yo
I am the truth, you need a boost, I'm caffeine
We on still, I be in the booth with the beam like I'm John Wilkes
This is not a drill, I hit yo mama still
I slap yo daddy, I guess I gotta chill, yeah I'm on for real
I'm nasty, Mufucka come and ask me
I'ma slap a rapper like a ass cheek, I never finish last
Yeah, I'ma hit it fast, I be getting ass while I'm in the backseat
Blood fed, what's next, no drug test, you cannot pass me
Same day, same plan, I'm feeling like a made man
I keep a couple bitches up in the kitchen with the aprons
Them quarters on me like a lemonade stand
You need an 8th but can't order, I don't wait cause I'm impatient
I sold my soul for like eight grand, not to Satan
But to some little chick with a fake tan
I'm an ape man, swinging through this fucking city with this k tucked in my waistband
My fit might just run you eight grand
And we be thuggin, coming through mean muggin, you bugging
You, saying nothing, we coming, we stuntin, then fuck the function up
Family function, more like alien abduction
Sucking you up into nothing like your mother, tell your brother
He ain't nothing either, singing like he Justin Bieber
I'ma have him ducking cleavers up in Cleveland, you must be blind, Venetian
She likes a Bible preacher, telling me that I need Jesus
Honestly, I believe ya, but I don't need ya, bye Felicia
Credits
Writer(s): Brandon Bruyette
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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