The World Cold (feat. Slim Spitta)

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Cynical Productions

1:50

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The world cold, better lay low
Something they a never take from me is my soul
Black fist high, let my nappy hair show
We don't speak the same language if you aint talking dough

I'm the phantom of the opera in a drop top
In all black pullin up at ya mama spot
Get the money and you might spare her life
If she fine I just might do sumn with her I like
I aint the type that's gone do alotta talking
Im all about the bread and you see it come often
Do what I say or you might see a coffin
Or find ya body laying on a railroad crossing
I move like it aint a hood that I cant go
Im everybody topic but my drip what they pay for
You might need a mop to clean up the mess
Gimme what I ask no negotiating, nothing less

Got some dirty money coming in the mail
And its wrapped so tight that they could never tell
Gotta clean it up and save it for the bail
Gotta crooked halo and im living in hell
Got my hand on the tool at the stop light
Pull up if you wanna but I bet I end your life
You don't really wanna see what my life like
I'll still come for ya head with the right price
They wanna put me in the grave aint that a shame
Cant they tell I done been through enough pain
I suppose I should let em know I never fold
Im ten toes down and my heart ice cold
I come to get the money I just really want the bag
I want everything that I never really had
Haters talking down yea I kno I make em mad
They see I got it and they money they cant make it last

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