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I'm sitting here, all alone... |
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Wonderin' why, why you did me so cold" |
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[Verse 1: Celph Titled] |
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We stay spittin' in your ear |
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Come out the bushes firin', make you surprise hit of the year |
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And just off GP, my *******z we blazin' easily |
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Shoot entire fam' when we shoot, show you some decency |
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Avidly raw, rhyme with a mechanical jaw; and we won't fight you |
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Hit you with the MA-282 .50 Caliber sniper rifle |
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Go 'head and try to hide them secrets, what you gon' do? |
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When your casket drops, they'll have plenty of dirt to dig up on you |
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After that sex change, I guess you not the man now |
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Cut off your arms, you the best MC, hands down |
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We manipulate, young impressionable minds |
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With extremely exceptional rhymes |
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Celph Titled's the one you idolize |
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Sellin' cassette tapes with Don Lapre |
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Marketing my methods on exactly how the god will speak |
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With deadly words that'll rearrange your clique |
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I'm in the bathroom with a Tommy gun, droppin' gangsta *******t |
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[Chorus] |
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"How could you...have been so cold?" (2X) |
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[Verse 2: Oktober] |
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It's like the darkest night meets the coldest winter |
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Ink froze when I wrote the scripture, sippin' on the old elixir |
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I use ice water color, composin' pictures depictin' |
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Me as the kingpin of game pimpin' |
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Hoppin' out the back of black Continental Lincolns |
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Visitin' the next man's women and call 'em chickens |
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Listen up, delinquents: I told y'all |
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Number two below the zero EP, frostbitten |
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I'm so cold, but I wasn't born to be |
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I see spirits in my ******* smoke, hauntin' me |
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Fools got nothin' on me, the song won't cry |
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I'm so cold, the blood freeze when I make the song bleed |
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I give two *******s about y'all blue butts |
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Hoodied up like I be reppin' minority Ku Klux |
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If you gamble with your own life, roll dice and I might |
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Put your mind, body and soul on ice, 'cause I'm so cold |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse 3: Celph Titled] |
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Lemme put these *******' words in your head, real simple and plain |
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My gun'll make you levitate; in the streets, I'm David Blaine |
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Deranged and insane, put you in a burgundy tomb |
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I got you callin' 9-1-1 in the emergency room |
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Military action, send in the regime |
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At my shows, we sell ammo in vending machines |
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The Bruce Willis of rap; I got "Die Hard" fans |
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And write with knife-sharp hands, slicin' your fam' |
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[Verse 4: Oktober] |
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Yo, I make mutha******s freeze in they place like sculptures of ice do |
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I'm in my thirty-two degree fahrenheit mood |
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Oktober and Celph Titled; we hold the belt title |
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But for death, we still fight you ill rivals |
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Tongue still reps the sword, simply slice you |
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From words exchanged back into days, I'm spiteful |
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To let trespassers in the game is taboo |
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Cover your scar with a Black Panther tattoo (That's cool) |
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[Chorus] |
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"How could you...have been so cold? |
