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letra de so cold - da$h

[intro: a$ap nast]
yeah
a$ap mob in this mothaf-cka
tried to told ya
yo yams what’s up

[verse 1: a$ap nast]
skinny black n-gga, all black get-up
calvin klein trench, make me look trap k!lla
i am rap skrilla, michael jack back, in my rap
check the trap, trilla, nasty back, track k!lla
call me young jack ripper, rest in peace wack n-ggas
with this rap, nast sicker than the sickest of the sickest generation
ya’ll just hating, cause we made it, celebration got me faded
blazing up, i feel amazing, but i’m just saying
like what you saying, y’all be playing
all are prey to a pack of wolves, that never ate
or so they say, they could be fake, whoever know
we sold our souls, we sold our minds
i lost my mind, but that’s all lies, because i’m all fine
i got this game, this b-tch is mine, n-gga

[hook: a$ap nast]
b-tch i’m cold, b-tch i’m cold
yeah, b-tch i’m cold, yeah, yeah, b-tch i’m cold, uh
b-tch i’m cold, b-tch i’m cold
yeah, b-tch i’m cold, yeah, yeah, b-tch i’m cold, uh
b-tch i’m cold, b-tch i’m cold
yeah, b-tch i’m cold, yeah, yeah, b-tch i’m cold, uh
b-tch i’m cold, b-tch i’m cold
yeah, b-tch i’m cold, yeah, yeah, b-tch i’m cold, uh

[post hook: a$ap nast]
ride wit a real n-gga
ride wit a real n-gga
ride wit a real n-gga
ride, ride wit a real n-gga
ride wit a real n-gga
ride wit a real n-gga
ride wit a real n-gga
ride, ride wit a real n-gga

[verse 2: da$h]
roll a couple grams, black hoe with a tan
bands don’t just make her dance, bet the b-tch will f-ck my friends
feeling like i’m cam n-gga, put her on the cam n-gga
and she got a man, she only love me for my jams, d-mn
i’m drunk as a fish, inhaling a spliff, can’t you see i’m loaded
and i won’t stop till i’m dead or i’m rich, young n-ggas control it
fold n-ggas like clothing, say my side what you opposing?
leave him stiff like he was posing, never scared of overdosing, yup
asked for a pill, handed her two
say you get high, well prove it then boo
ordered a ‘tel, call up your crew
and we set it off just like jada would do
true, they say the real n-ggas don’t lie
you was never close to i so i suggest you never try, yeah so

[verse 3: a$ap ferg]
trap lord and i’m righteous
cozy boy and i’m still reclining
bad b-tch in manolo blahnik
i pump that -ss like that colonic
feel the b-ss and that beat knocking
can’t see my face, i’m beneath the stocking
stocky n-gga but the heat brolic
get your head chopped like supersonic
yamborghini in a lamborghini
margiela b-tch in that red bikini
french b-tch suck seven weewees
ask rock if you don’t believe me
mobbing hard with my mob
trap lord the young god
a$ap we go hard
brraaap boy in yo car
lay flat boy, it’s yo gun
feeling like a task force with that chrome
feeling like i’m flex boy with that bomb (boom)
tec spray like cologne
better get that tec boy, you’re so gone
hit him in the neck, jaw or his arm
you better not flex boy when i zone
cause i draw guns like crayons

- dah

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