D.Bledsoe - Cold Type lyrics

rate me

Man these hoes they got me zane

Take ‘em home but don’t tag along

Can’t nail one of your...

I’m a rich city nigger

Put that on my hood

We gonna smoke that up

Now that you got that understood

Boy you a little bit drinker

Don’t mind this pink eye

Do whatever you could think of

Get right mamasita

Do you like my new snickers?

Then let’s kick it up in

Touching on you

Fucking on me

Baby let’s do this off then get lost

Nigger Jacuzzi timers in

Imma hit it all on me

Go to sleep driving me

Yeah I’m in what it do

How you think it’s gotta do

Hella drunk

I’m gonna funk stomp

Are you gonna type that one more?

I hope not

Tie my money up

Toes go but you know the dough

Stop! NFO though drop

Yeah that dough E

Right kinda price, only get it steamed

You getting high?

Yeah me too

Getting money

Yeah that’s what we do

A lot of drugs

More fucking

Player why you haitin’

Ain’t no future

And now you up in this motherfucking

And burn down this roof

And now you up in this motherfucking

And burn down this roof

And now you up in this motherfucking

And burn down this roof

And now you up in this motherfucking

And burn down this roof

Super caly swagger if it back alley dope shit

Sipping codes high way full whip dope shit

Fresh about the box warm twice

In case you need me in the life

That’s what I call dope

No good for but she never had better

Cruise in her deep I swear

I never had better

She in school studying

And I’m fucking with her brain top

Head over heels she going crazy

In that range truck

On the main fuck

Look at all that they buying for

Hit all the Jack and ask her what she

At it for?

Why Lord?

High horse, this drip it ain’t pony

Hiting that piggy so hard

Trying

To get the money

I’m talking cream here

Speed no coffee

All these bitches trying to find where they lost me

No to handle what she throwing back at me

Ask your man you know

These hoes can’t stand me

I’m gone