[First Verse]
Nobody wanna fuck with a ghetto bastard
Except for the pastor
With a long criminal record of harassment on lil' girls
In the real World is where he takes 'em
And in the name of God, rapes 'em
And lies to 'em sayin' that if they tell somebody God'll hate 'em
Take 'em to the basement placin' scars on these kids for life
Droppin' 'em off and off to his house on to his kids and wife
In the middle of the night somethin' just ain't feelin' right, so he go to the church
In front the church you see with a pen and pictures just a hoe and a purse
He spoke first, she opened up her purse and bucked him in his chest
Put him to rest for puttin' his hands up under her daughter's dress
A quarter best, she goin' to jail for first degree, murder
He goin' to Hell that's on the real cuz he deserves to
Look, that's word to the man he has to answer to for the shit he did
In three years, he done molested over sixteen kids
Now she did what she was supposed to do, black woman
Doin' time for the crime of mindin' our young ones
Now ain't that cold?
Chorus (uncredited singer):
It's so cold, cold blooded
It's so cold, cooooooold
Cold blooded
He in the pen doin' time while his girlfriend was havin' his kid
A spittin' image, so he couldn't deny the kid was his
He did five, for two-eleven, now he back on the streets
Need money? Got a job so his family could eat
No application needed, he was recommended by friends
Let him go soon as they found he did some time in the pen
Now time and again, payin' for what he did in the past
On the streets, breathin' his lucky charm, fiendin' for cash
Took his last check, bought his family food and then scored
A quarter ounce, but look, that's all the fuck the man could afford
Got the right mentality tryin' to provide for his kid
Tryin' to make up for bein' absent for the first five years
Idea for makin' money wasn't sellin' no crack
The street life, steady callin' now he can't hold back
He wide open, others see him so they plottin' a jack
Watch him sell crack, then they watch him pocket his snaps
Not even knowin' that this nigga got a family at home
Them boys caught him, checked his pockets, then put one in his dome
Now he gone, daughter cryin' cuz her Daddy was stole
Bless his soul, cuz now the back of his head got a hole
Now ain't that cold?
Chorus
Nobody wanna fuck with a ghetto bastard
Except for the pastor
With a long criminal record of harassment on lil' girls
In the real World is where he takes 'em
And in the name of God, rapes 'em
And lies to 'em sayin' that if they tell somebody God'll hate 'em
Take 'em to the basement placin' scars on these kids for life
Droppin' 'em off and off to his house on to his kids and wife
In the middle of the night somethin' just ain't feelin' right, so he go to the church
In front the church you see with a pen and pictures just a hoe and a purse
He spoke first, she opened up her purse and bucked him in his chest
Put him to rest for puttin' his hands up under her daughter's dress
A quarter best, she goin' to jail for first degree, murder
He goin' to Hell that's on the real cuz he deserves to
Look, that's word to the man he has to answer to for the shit he did
In three years, he done molested over sixteen kids
Now she did what she was supposed to do, black woman
Doin' time for the crime of mindin' our young ones
Now ain't that cold?
Chorus (uncredited singer):
It's so cold, cold blooded
It's so cold, cooooooold
Cold blooded
He in the pen doin' time while his girlfriend was havin' his kid
A spittin' image, so he couldn't deny the kid was his
He did five, for two-eleven, now he back on the streets
Need money? Got a job so his family could eat
No application needed, he was recommended by friends
Let him go soon as they found he did some time in the pen
Now time and again, payin' for what he did in the past
On the streets, breathin' his lucky charm, fiendin' for cash
Took his last check, bought his family food and then scored
A quarter ounce, but look, that's all the fuck the man could afford
Got the right mentality tryin' to provide for his kid
Tryin' to make up for bein' absent for the first five years
Idea for makin' money wasn't sellin' no crack
The street life, steady callin' now he can't hold back
He wide open, others see him so they plottin' a jack
Watch him sell crack, then they watch him pocket his snaps
Not even knowin' that this nigga got a family at home
Them boys caught him, checked his pockets, then put one in his dome
Now he gone, daughter cryin' cuz her Daddy was stole
Bless his soul, cuz now the back of his head got a hole
Now ain't that cold?
Chorus
Don B Yeah what s happenin This yo boy Don B with the Big Boy Storm what s happenin Tell em how you ...
Chorus J Dawg Shaburnke That s my hoe Freak nasty jump on it Jump on it Jump on it I already know Fre...
Chorus uncredited repeat 2X Smokin and rollin Up in a ride that ain t even much paid for And you can te...
