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• Artiste: Flee Lord & Grafh
• Titre: Cold Outside
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My nigga, Flee Told me some real shit the other day (From the ghettos worldwide) It inspired me Word (From the ghettos worldwide) Niggas like us, from the bottom Could actually make it out For real (From the ghettos worldwide) Like for real, though Ay, ay, ay, ay, yeh Mama saying ‘Come back home’ Cause if I get locked Will I come back home Or get sent upstate And not know What’s up back home And get football numbers And come back grown Cause I done did what I did For a dolla If you a fiend, nigga, holla (What’s up) Cause I got What you ask for It’s fresh off of the boat Like it need a passport Off of them foreign cars With expensive leather On the dashboard Nigga, my cash part I’m fast forward You asked for it I am the block I am Martin Am the Rock Without Uncle Sam’s Hand in the pot Servin’ ham sandwiches Not salmon and lobster Yeah, and it’s impostor It’s the Phantom of the Opera Handing out grams of the rock Baking soda in the pan with Ciroc When you stand as a black man You got to be handling pop color Look at the CAT scan from your doctor (Man) Poor healthcare we need more help here (Uh) You ain’t poor enough, they take you off welfare That’s the bottom, you heard Uh, ahhh Man, it’s so cold outside It’s so cold outside (Ghettos worldwide) If you not prepared, my nigga Don’t go outside, no (Ghettos worldwide) Another day, another dollar (Uh) Somebody Mama gon’ cry (Somebody Mama gon’ cry, my nigga) Tell her don’t cry (No) Don’t cry (No) Don’t cry, no (Ay, ay) It’s freezing outside (Sheesh) They ain’t eatin’ Kids is sleepin outside (Foo) But not literally, though Deliver my flow, it’s always Filled up with snow (Clean that shit up) Grew up off of EBT and Food Stamps Whatchu know bout eating free lunch at youth camps (I don’t know about that, man) Don’t cry, Mama I know I’m selling pies With no bow ties, Mama (R.I.P., Ma) Team full of crazy niggas Fiend for a babysitter Niggas on the scene Gettin’ cream Since the ‘90s with us Young raws, we was ones to down Spaghetti-Os Three up out the dime sack, a black, you already know Now travel and kick The bowels’ll spit (Brrr) Man, I’ll tackle your bitch Smoke a cape nigga Mack on a bitch They always hate on ya After you rich Lord Man, it’s so cold outside It’s so cold outside (Ghettos worldwide) If you not prepared, my nigga Don’t go outside, no (Ghettos worldwide) Another day, another dollar (Uh) Somebody Mama gon’ cry (Somebody Mama gon’ cry, my nigga) Tell her don’t cry (No) Don’t cry (No) Don’t cry, no (Ay, ay)