This Cold World — текст песни (Lord Tariq)

(chinese drums and bells combine in a beat)
[older voice starts singing]

[Chorus 1]
In this cold world, no matter where I go the crowds are all the same
(uh huh huh huh uh huh let em know)
To them I`m just a pebble in the sand, a face...without a name

[Verse 1]
Ya niggas would never understand the calibur I`m reppin`
Hoes that I`m sexin`, cribs that I`ve slept in
Cars and stashboxes cash and glocks is kept in
Talk how I`m steppin`, representin` the weapon
Sex, money and murder - have it, got it and do it
Set it, plot it to get it
Southeast BX, the Soundview area
Black Lex GS tan leather interior
Moves in Atlanta, meetins` in Alabama
Cold blue steel under the green bandana
I copped raw yay on Broadway from bananas
Hoop fully eqipped wit chips and scanners
Not a motherfuckin` shit? uh
I see through yuor propaganda
Yo partner told me yo` paper proper in Savanna
If life`s a bitch..I gotta have her
Whateva! Ain`t shit gonna work unles we all work together.

[chorus 2]
In this cold world, I struggle to survive and sometimes I would fall
(uh huh huh huh uh huh let em know)
You think someone would lend a helpin hand, they choose to see me crawl

[Verse 2]
Yo, Yo I had dreams I pitched quarters wit rich portage
Drove miles Kin chow`s, all in the Feds files
Back before niggas wrap my chains and rings
I was teachin New York niggas how to slang them things
Shit check the credits, no mutes and no edits
These walkinletters after the cheddar
blue, red and yellow, it can`t get no better
Fuck banners, bandanas all colors - star-spangled
From militants and gangstas, I covered all angles
Do a hit and twist a story until it`s all tangled
Speak when spoken spoken cuz I undertandthe langua

{chorus 1}

[Verse 3]
Yo, yeah, yo, yo Lord Tariq, Soundview ain`t bout it, we of it
Round the world they respect my gangsta, gotta love it
Laws made to be broken, I`m tall - I stand above it
Stashin keys in a sugar bowl, inside the cupboard
Rap nigga, billion dollar industry to Bronx, I`m of it
Step wide, if you steppin wrong - get you stomped or smothered
- got undercovers through the jet, sun covered
- got beat walkers runnin out out the jets like faggots
- got niggas sellin gats
- got gangstas sellin hoes and hash for twenty-foura grand
know your math
- got newborn G`s break a scheme and plot
- got forever thugs - they 40 and still on the block
- got niggas in they jetsuits - gun don`t pop?
I think not, you gotta blast to get what little we got
Got coke crack and crack to smack spots
No main roads, just boondocks and back blocks in...

{chorus 2}

[Verse 4]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yo, yeah, yo
Ya niggas feel froggy? then leap, yeah, you hard wit the heat
But I`m hard to defeat, the Lord-to-the-Riq
Bow down, say a payer, knees to the concrete
Take you off on your feet, have you barf on the street
Don`t even bother to speak
Cuz Bronx here, game`s over
Lows the lazarus? to get you high, beat ya sober
Tech flame spit wit more range than a Rover
4.8 gats knockin `jay-hovas`
Ya



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