Cold Blooded lyrics

[Intro]
(Mike Laury)
(Dubba-AA flexin')
Like Ross say, can’t forget bout yo brother, no
Never forget bout yo’ brother, look
(This is the sound)

[Verse]
Run down and bust a n*gga sh*t, since he like to talk
Cold blooded, we make the police come and draw the chalk
Them n*ggas steppin’, but ain’t like them boys out that nawf
People run and tellin’ the police bout everything they saw
Boy you a b*tch, you told Yo Gotti I drew down on you (Oh, for real?)
C-Bo can’t save you, I catch you, I’m gon’ run down on you
f*ck them fat b*tches that’s with you, I’ll open fire on ‘em
I told you stories bout them bodiеs, you know how I’m coming (How I’m comin’)
38 baby, you say fed, you better stand on that (Stand on that)
Jump out on you, b*tch you try to run, gon’ shoot you in your back
Rеady for to die, my mama know that I ain’t scared of that
Yo’ chain around my neck pus*y boy, you can have it back
‘Posed to be my brother, but you changed up like them other n*ggas
Back up on that gangster sh*t, you got me screaming f*ck a n*gga
Anywhere you at, no it ain’t sh*t just for to touch you n*gga
Ain’t gave C-Bo sh*t, b*tch I gave something to all my f*ckin’ n*ggas (That’s on Montana)
Six hundred thousand in the bank, just for a rainy day
Two hundred thousand up in Chase, I can spend any day
Want you to diss me in your song, I’m waitin’ on that day (Day)
So I can call you like “Meet up” and shoot you in your face
Drive by up in the bottom, I just beat another case
Never been in jail for months? Say lil’ boy, we can’t relate
You know all my n*ggas bout it, you done showed me that you fake
No competition, f*ck Tay-K, b*tch I ain’t in no race
Grandma I hope that you forgive from the way I’m livin’
Mama don’t tell me bout my pistol, n*ggas wanna kill me
b*tch when I met you, you was real but now you start to switchin’
Draco bouncing up and down like switches, shoot it till it’s clickin’
DonDada love violence, n*gga all I want is bodies
On top of that, say b*tch, I want ten million dollars
Since you did that, I swear that it’s a problem
On my mama, I ain’t stoppin’
On my son, you gotta pop me, b*tch
[Outro]
38 baby n*gga, yeah
I’m fed, I’m too fed
But not when you say it, b*tch you better stand on it, believe that
f*ck this rap sh*t, you know how I’m livin’