Lyrics Cold outside Flee Lord & Grafh

Cold outside

My nigga, Flee
Told me some real shit the other day (From the ghettos worldwide)
It inspired me
Word (From the ghettos worldwide)
Niggas like us, from the bottom
Could actually make it out
For real (From the ghettos worldwide)
Like for real, though

Ay, ay, ay, ay, yeh
Mama saying
‘Come back home’
Cause if I get locked
Will I come back home
Or get sent upstate
And not know
What’s up back home
And get football numbers
And come back grown
Cause I done did what I did
For a dolla
If you a fiend, nigga, holla (What’s up)
Cause I got
What you ask for
It’s fresh off of the boat
Like it need a passport
Off of them foreign cars
With expensive leather
On the dashboard
Nigga, my cash part
I’m fast forward
You asked for it
I am the block
I am Martin
Am the Rock
Without Uncle Sam’s
Hand in the pot
Servin’ ham sandwiches
Not salmon and lobster
Yeah, and it’s impostor
It’s the Phantom of the Opera
Handing out grams of the rock
Baking soda in the pan with Ciroc
When you stand as a black man
You got to be handling pop color
Look at the CAT scan from your doctor (Man)
Poor healthcare we need more help here (Uh)
You ain’t poor enough, they take you off welfare
That’s the bottom, you heard
Uh, ahhh

Man, it’s so cold outside
It’s so cold outside (Ghettos worldwide)
If you not prepared, my nigga
Don’t go outside, no (Ghettos worldwide)
Another day, another dollar (Uh)
Somebody Mama gon’ cry (Somebody Mama gon’ cry, my nigga)
Tell her don’t cry (No)
Don’t cry (No)
Don’t cry, no (Ay, ay)

It’s freezing outside (Sheesh)
They ain’t eatin’
Kids is sleepin outside (Foo)
But not literally, though
Deliver my flow, it’s always
Filled up with snow (Clean that shit up)
Grew up off of EBT and Food Stamps
Whatchu know bout eating free lunch at youth camps (I don’t know about that, man)
Don’t cry, Mama
I know I’m selling pies
With no bow ties, Mama (R.I.P., Ma)
Team full of crazy niggas
Fiend for a babysitter
Niggas on the scene
Gettin’ cream
Since the ‘90s with us
Young raws, we was ones to down Spaghetti-Os
Three up out the dime sack, a black, you already know
Now travel and kick
The bowels’ll spit (Brrr)
Man, I’ll tackle your bitch
Smoke a cape nigga
Mack on a bitch
They always hate on ya
After you rich
Lord

Man, it’s so cold outside
It’s so cold outside (Ghettos worldwide)
If you not prepared, my nigga
Don’t go outside, no (Ghettos worldwide)
Another day, another dollar (Uh)
Somebody Mama gon’ cry (Somebody Mama gon’ cry, my nigga)
Tell her don’t cry (No)
Don’t cry (No)
Don’t cry, no (Ay, ay)