Cold as the cold in the wintertime Slow rhyme, when I rhyme, no beginner I'm City walk when they said tryna make a dime They don't ask for too much, just a little shine A little time on the grind tryin get that gwop Wasn't worth eight years for your first time pop Now you back rehabilitated punching the clock Old neighbourhood witnessin your man in the drop Got the drop on that nigga, said he runnin the block Graduated from the greens to servin up rock So you plot and you think and you sin on the plan On some ski mask shit but that's your man I'm sayin, you tryna push reasons to the front And put a block on that other shit you want But the streets keep callin your name A nine to five slave to the rhythm ain't bringin you fame So it's back to the game, round up a little gang Set it up to stick your mayne but he stick you first, goodbye I've seen em rise, seen em fall Seen em come, seen em go, seen em all Seen stars with they name on the wall Till the money get tight and the limelight stall 3AM in the backseat leanin Thinkin bout all the things I seen man Remember, before niggas was on the bandwagon I fell asleep to the sound of hand cannons Leavin holes in souls the size of Grand Canyons Late night, Spindle Street with my man Brendan Fast-forward twelve years, now we grandstandin Because I maintainin, without man tannin And it made me an animal But I need another quarter before the catalogue I could dumb down and rap for bitches and alcohol But I'm too loud and too proud to tap dance for these crackers dog So, won't be no Gregory Hyman When Te get hostile he spit gospel like he in the whiners And right now he into findin A new platform for the rhymes that I arrange And new ideas for the lines that I exchange Cause I can't be a laughin stock homie, that'd be a cryin shame All I need is six bars and an intro Cause I relate to these beats like we was kinfolks And the flow so fresh like lentils And this is all real talk, that's for your info Cause that's where I been yo, ho 3AM in the backseat leanin Thinkin bout all the things I seen man Grindin, timin, motherfucker Rep up, stepped up motherfucker So quiet, coulda crept on the sucker From behind and blew the breath out the buster But instead held my head like a hustler Parked up to get the sound of the muffler Heard a clown buyed his pounds, bein fluffier Tellin niggas outa town they be luckier It get sad when the hood had enough of ya Broke niggas buck at ya, poke you in ya jugular But when you high you feel niggas can't fuck witcha I'm surprised the nigga still had customers Shut my eyes and inhaled my smoke Tryna decide should I let him slide, but nope He broke ties when he spoke his lies Tellin spies that he hope I die so my reply is To keep it real, I hope he can fly Cause I'm a send him to them open skies 3AM in the backseat leanin Thinkin bout all the things I've seen man