D.Bledsoe – Cold Type Lyrics

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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

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