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Cold Video (MV)




Performed By: Lil Durk
Featuring: Booka600, Young Famous
Language: English
Written by: Durk D. Banks, Darontez Mayo




Lil Durk - Cold Lyrics




[ Featuring Booka600, Young Famous ]

We in the game, you courtside
Don't mix us with them f*ck niggas
Got no ties yeah, 300, 600, we get so live
Yeah, disrespect, we at yo' neck like bowties
Got respect with that TEC, yeah
Niggas know what we rep, yeah
Irma Irma, get wet, yeah
Sellin' round Seacrest, yeah
Backseat, we sex, yeah
Got straight seats wet, yeah
Treat him like a bungee cord
Pussy nigga get stretched, aye
Say where we from
You know we stretchin' niggas
We need it all, ain't nothin' left for niggas
So we dressed up, vested up
Tell them niggas catch up
Pussy nigga catch up I will never let up
Bought a couple new choppas for my niggas
Make sure that nigga don't get to
See that doctor for my niggas
Bet not catch you f*ckin' with my niggas
OTF my niggas, 300 my niggas, 600 my niggas
Yea aye, and I ain't f*ckin' with mine
I know I'm fly as f*ck
But I'm still totin' a 9
I'm tryna check a bag
So I'm still on my grind
And can't forget the game, free 22 and free 9

I'm true to my brothas
You know what I'm talkin' bout?
I'm tellin' my brotha, keep
It forever, forever nigga, you know?
Free 9, free 9 gang shit

Boy you know who 7 is
And I won't stop none of them
Hoes or I have 7 kids
And it was f*cked up back then
But I had better years
And we was goin' west to cop
Work off from them Mexicans
And if we high speed
Gotta watch out for pedestrians
I took my chain, then we stretchin' shit
Ever seen a young nigga stretch a brick
They shot Booka, we gon' get back
Tried to put me under investigation
Told him get back
Rules to the homicide room, sit there
Don't say nothin', ask for your lawyer
When I bond out, police hit my mom house
I put that perc in the couch
So she won't find out
I don't know nothin', I won't say nothin'
I won't tell nothin', I won't show nothin'
No

Aye Booka, go crazy
Hehehe, They don't tweak with us
We foe'nem, nigga let's get it, L's

F*ck the opps till the end like a
This celesta, you'll be sick in the night
Hold the tip of that water
Currents we pullin', we drench 'em in order
Got a savage on my left and my right
F*ck niggas, extort him extendos
I been told nigga, stay in your order
Don't you get out of line
Been exposed, bitched been deportin'
My guys sold just to get in deployed
The streets is ours
Cut from that cloth, no swore
Get Back Gang gon' go
And break bread with my brothas
That's how we was molded that's how we cool
And that's all we know
Ain't got to be a lion, roar
Ain't gotta be a
Load that choppa, let it unload

Only the Fam, Six-O mo' money, mo' guns
Mo cheddar, mo' paper mo' lettuce, mo' feathers
F*ck the dead niggas
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




We in the game, you courtside
Don't mix us with them f*ck niggas
Got no ties yeah, 300, 600, we get so live
Yeah, disrespect, we at yo' neck like bowties
Got respect with that TEC, yeah
Niggas know what we rep, yeah
Irma Irma, get wet, yeah
Sellin' round Seacrest, yeah
Backseat, we sex, yeah
Got straight seats wet, yeah
Treat him like a bungee cord
Pussy nigga get stretched, aye
Say where we from
You know we stretchin' niggas
We need it all, ain't nothin' left for niggas
So we dressed up, vested up
Tell them niggas catch up
Pussy nigga catch up I will never let up
Bought a couple new choppas for my niggas
Make sure that nigga don't get to
See that doctor for my niggas
Bet not catch you f*ckin' with my niggas
OTF my niggas, 300 my niggas, 600 my niggas
Yea aye, and I ain't f*ckin' with mine
I know I'm fly as f*ck
But I'm still totin' a 9
I'm tryna check a bag
So I'm still on my grind
And can't forget the game, free 22 and free 9

I'm true to my brothas
You know what I'm talkin' bout?
I'm tellin' my brotha, keep
It forever, forever nigga, you know?
Free 9, free 9 gang shit

Boy you know who 7 is
And I won't stop none of them
Hoes or I have 7 kids
And it was f*cked up back then
But I had better years
And we was goin' west to cop
Work off from them Mexicans
And if we high speed
Gotta watch out for pedestrians
I took my chain, then we stretchin' shit
Ever seen a young nigga stretch a brick
They shot Booka, we gon' get back
Tried to put me under investigation
Told him get back
Rules to the homicide room, sit there
Don't say nothin', ask for your lawyer
When I bond out, police hit my mom house
I put that perc in the couch
So she won't find out
I don't know nothin', I won't say nothin'
I won't tell nothin', I won't show nothin'
No

Aye Booka, go crazy
Hehehe, They don't tweak with us
We foe'nem, nigga let's get it, L's

F*ck the opps till the end like a
This celesta, you'll be sick in the night
Hold the tip of that water
Currents we pullin', we drench 'em in order
Got a savage on my left and my right
F*ck niggas, extort him extendos
I been told nigga, stay in your order
Don't you get out of line
Been exposed, bitched been deportin'
My guys sold just to get in deployed
The streets is ours
Cut from that cloth, no swore
Get Back Gang gon' go
And break bread with my brothas
That's how we was molded that's how we cool
And that's all we know
Ain't got to be a lion, roar
Ain't gotta be a
Load that choppa, let it unload

Only the Fam, Six-O mo' money, mo' guns
Mo cheddar, mo' paper mo' lettuce, mo' feathers
F*ck the dead niggas
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Durk D. Banks, Darontez Mayo
Copyright: Lyrics © CREATE MUSIC

Back to: Lil Durk

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