Cold Day in Hell

[Verse 1: Big Vic]
Oh yes I'm big, the B the I so I mack two Gs
Then comes the f*ckin' Vic the V-I and a couple ah Cs
Listenin' to the anger in my head sayin' I gotta stay drunk
While I'm waitin' for this punk wid this cold pump
Lookin' a lavish n*gga as he sittin' on them gold thangs
Grippin' on his Mac looped up by a shoe string
Around the piece, while I let him live a little longer
Perbin' cause I'm drunk so my trigger finger's a little bit slow-er
Hell's freezin' over, clickin' so hard we yellin' Cold World Hustler
I can't contain, what I can't control
So I'm stumblin' through the nineties and forever on the, roll
Cause the neighborhood watch is watchin' cause I'm bustin'
Then the n*ggas in the Sucka Free'll have you sluggin'
It's a anything for money thang, a shortage in the dope game
The thirty two's are poppin' f*ck the fame, n*gga
I'm over the fence and up the stairs never reminiscin'
Took my ski-mask off and slapped a new clip in
Time to fire up a joint cause it's hectic
Sirens fill the street cause n*gga I'm a suspect
Young ass n*gga bangin' barely coppin' quarters
If money wasn't a issue man I wouldn't pop at, rollers
A cold day a cold week a cold year well
The thoughts of a past on this highway to, hell

[Verse 2: Rell]
Now as I decide to creep up from behind already Glock is c*cked
Now watch the body drop, my finger went, back and forth
Repeatedly rapidly n*ggas wanna jump bad wid me
n*gga f*ck that sh*t that's why I copped me a Glock and went
Pop pop pop, I love the sound it goes click-clack
Pop pop pop, I watch is head go split-splat
Pop pop pop, I'm watchin' suckas go skit-skat
Pop pop pop, that was the jack for the crack sack
It's a shame for what a young n*gga go through
Smokin' on that dank hopin' a young n*gga pull through
I'm hopin' that the five-oh don't wanna roll through
f*ckin' up my money while I'm tryna pay my, dues
Man f*ck! what did I do to deserve this yo I don't know
Born October twenty-ninth a motherf*ckin' Scorpio
Me no have no morals, me no have no cares
And me don't give a f*ck if me be livin' or you be dead
So me creep through me motherf*ckin' streets
The only reason you no see me cause me creepin' frequent-ly
So then I c*ck back my Glock I'm clever n*ggas be gettin' took forever
Anything for money still, the way I'm livin' n*gga
Can't ignore ignorance, helplessness or selflessness
sh*ttiness or emptiness or incompetence from a n*gga
Hell will be a cold place, when they see my face
I'm gonna sell these cold rocks, up and down the hot blocks
Wait'll they get a load of me, down in H-E-L-L
For n*ggas that know for once I'm sick ass R-E-L-L
It'll be a cold day in hell before the Rell
Will accept any sh*t from a b*tch or the next n*gga

[Verse 3: Taydatay]
Well you can step into the mind of a psychotic psycho
Gangbangin' creepin' wid my three f*ckin' eight-oh
A baldhead I keeps my sag on you better watch yo back
I'm quick to get my blast on I creep up from the cuts
Commit a 2-11 then I f*ck around and leave up from the scene with a, 1-8-7
He never had a chance it was dark
I let the nine spark as he stepped from his 'Lark
So call me Taydataker quick to pull a f*ckin' caper
Makin' money all the time, lable me the f*ckin' mail maker
All about my grip, stuck to the grind
I f*ck hoes in daylight then sell dope and nighttime
Cause nighttime is my time and your time is short tho
You can't tell me sh*t when I'm off that there indo
Creepin' through the cuts just like that n*gga said before
I'm sprayin' up the party as I blast through the door
So run up or step up I'm down for the plot
I can't fake no pitches hoe truster I'm not
No b*tch before the crew that's what we say up in our click
Cold day in f*ckin' hell for this 4-1-5 sh*t

[HOOK]
Cold day in hell, these are, cold days for real, n*gga
(4x)

[Verse 4: E-Sick]
One two three four five f*ck it enough n*ggas to fill the bucket
Mashin' down third straight chokin' on, blunts
Party's hangin' out the window best believe they got a pistol
Cold world hustlin' n*ggas just couldn't give a f*ck b*tch
Dodgin' through the cut tryna stay on the under scene
Never trust a b*tch so myself was the only team
Started packin' pistol cuz if cream that n*gga took my life
Imagine even that, that's some sh*t I can't fight
Ain't nobody help me the corner's gettin' hot as f*ck
I stopped shootin' dice in nine tray, there was no luck
Drinkin' more and more smokin' dank gettin' f*cked up
n*ggas still dyin' but still I can't give a f*ck
Always stressed deep depressed my di*k is in the, dirt
Head is achin' knees shakin' I gotta put in work
Sleepless late nights poppin' pills so I won't go to sleep
That's the life I'm livin' right now in these cold streets

[Verse 5: Maine-O]
It's enough to make a n*gga wanna take his pistol grip
And buck buck buck him with that motherf*ckin' weak sh*t
Play me not, you tryna plex over them cheeks
But little did you know that I been killin' sh*t for weeks
Marks punks and b*tches, keep me personally protected
No funk intended, I just intend to be respected
I been constantly jacked bossed and tossed in the cell
Got the kinda story to tell about a cold day in hell
Hammers rammed in the dirt, cause we be slammin' on tape
Paid dues and been accused for everything from murder to rape
Yeh it's ya main Maine I'm posse-in' up wid assassins
I'm buckin' down these corners tearin' n*ggas in halves
And n*ggas try to plot plex, and play me
But I be poppin' cops and busta n*ggas on a daily
I got my shady, shady n*ggas like an oak tree
And now my guage be first to be sure you don't smoke me
Laws can't draw slow, I'm packin' my four-four
My hoe's name is nina but I think I need a little more
I pick bout four gats, that's havin' whole clicks bookin'
And n*ggas gettin' filthy cause my hookers bout they hookin'
Havin' no remorse, as I'm watchin' n*ggas scatter
And of course I got the force I'ma ratter-tat tatter
Eratin' they ass, wid some hollow point spray
My dope spot's hot, but in hell it's a cold day