[Intro: Rosco P. Coldchain]
Uh
Real P
Keep pushing
I don't hustle, man
Look
[Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain]
Parked up in the truck sitting up looking pretty
[?] about thirty with me
I spend it like I print it
US minted, if I said it then I meant it
So much I had to whip it with a cement mixer
Black Benz Sprinter, Hennessey in the spritzer
Drunk at the kid's bar mitzvah
White line will dirty up your dishes
Straight out of hell's kitchen
Crushed out, well, enough for you to sniff it, it's good stuff
When your tongue's numbing up, you ain't even have to lick it
Enough talk
I ain't gotta lie to kick it
Just buy something
[?] you're wasting your time frontin'
If I'm not the right frame of mind, I'm downing something
I'm tryna clock a tickеt and stick it on your windshield
And show you niggas just how I did it
I'm watching you watching us
Watching them suiting up
They raid thе wrong spot
Trapping right down the block from the police district
Pitching inconspicuous with the Smith & Wesson
I pull out, don't forget to chip in
Money's in the bag 'cause I'm all the way in my duffel
Prepping, preparing myself for the consequences
Reckless, hitting these hoes without protection
Dumping [?]
Nine months, who checking
No second chance at a first impression
At first glace I can tell you the type to make a confession
Nigga, I know your kind 'cause I did hard time
Been around the world twice and the streets since I was nine
Got blood on my hands, all theirs, not mine
All's fair in love and war
So when I sleep, I rest fine, nigga
God's perfect, everything in life is meant
I know he's working, I'm a servant
You a serpent, see you lurking, this a circus
I'm an angel with a halo 'round my neck
Whip that chicken like at Church's
Gotta pay me for these sermons
I will be in the trap house rolling up hemp
Smoking [?] coke look like popcorn shrimp
On an air mattress with a uptown bitch
If you can stack a hundred grand, you considered hood rich
In the slums how I was done, slap a drum on a hand gun
And just start shooting and hope that it land one
Youngin tried to make [?] and pedalled up on a bike
Xannied up, shot the lady up and her damn son
It was me on that fifteen trolley
A pack of Swiss Rolls, had to split it with the homies
Then I started seeing real cake like Little Debbie
And learned how to fold the paper up like origami
Forty-five in the Tommy, Hilfiger drawers on my body
I'm quick to cold cut a bitch off like pastrami
Got a [?] for a c-note, 'cause she will if she don't
And these hoes will do anything for a dollar, so keep going
[Outro: Rosco P. Coldchain]
[?] let it fly (Let it fly)
And I will, and I will
And I will, and I will
Let's go
Sweatsuit got a butterfly