Cold Killer

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YM Trez

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Come and run up on me, nigga
I'mma put that Glock up on you
Five pounds behind the trigger
Bitch, keep playing, got death up on you
Hold on, cold shoulder on you niggas
He a soul stealer (Yea)
Bitch, get out that game
You ain't no mother fucking cold killer
Knock the fucking locs up off his dome

Razor Gang, I don't condone
Bitch, better watch your tone, yea
Bitch I love violence
Leave me alone
All these niggas hating me
But they can't lay a fucking hand up on me
Bitch go get your brother
I'll get my fucking homie
Hold on, one dead, two dead, three dead, four, huh
Bet you ain't never seen this crazy shit before
Your biggest haters be your own folks, damn
In that Gucci, Louis, Prada bag
I fucking pistol tote

You ain't met the murder man
Better not sleep, stay woke
Spent a hundred bands
The smoke I give, they choke
Fetnayl pill, whoa
Here I fucking go
Shit get deep as the Submarine
I'mma dump your body, whoa

Come and run up on me, nigga
I'mma put that Glock up on you
Five pounds behind the trigger
Bitch, keep playing, got death up on you
Hold on, cold shoulder on you niggas
He a soul stealer
Bitch, get out that game
You ain't no mother fucking cold killer, uh
You think I give a f*ck about these niggas
And creek bitches?
Most talked about, but never touched
Nigga such and such
I'mma take my niggas from rags to riches
Bitch, you know wassup
You gone get folded like a lawn chair
If you fucking run up

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