Cold-blooded, cold-blooded, and rugged, rugged and raw For you and your-your, for you and You got the C to the, huh - Ain't it - huh, - hard-core We it hiiiiiiiiiiiiigh-er
Yo, yo My little daughter, started, nursery Brother Com, gotta make our move the stylist(?) and violence vibrance The sign of times with rhyme is timeless The mind is a thing to spill Rap life's like a dream that seems for A nigga wake up, superstar, with no after, travellin the world to see paper's paper Streets take ya, back and forth a shaker I'm a slave to the breakin off I get the job done - but some days I wanna off D be like, "We ain't got no for that!" ?uestlove said, "We got no time for that!" My old bird like, "We ain't got no for that!" So I when my back hurts the numbers from my grandmother like Kraftwerk I rock the patchwork fast I'm in to win but begin to sin we're in to win with and Heineken's Beast for each and greet the meek speech to and peak cause Pete, shit gets deep I fuh-fuh-freak, that come out at night, most cats pull the gun out Go on and on and, to the of when the run out, run out, r-run out C uhh,
(c'mon) cold-blooded, hard-core (hit em with the) Rough and rugged (c'mon) and raw (hey) for you and yours, for you and You got the C, uhh - (yeah) (c'mon) hard-core (ain't it funky) and rugged, rugged and raw for you and yours, for you and (Yo, yo I-I think I wanna these horns I want you to taste these horns, now) C, the cold-blooded (uh) (yeah) hard-core (ain't it) and rugged (uh) rugged and raw (yeah baby that's what I'm about c'mon, em, give us a little more) for you and yours, for you and C to the, cold-blooded (na, na-nasty) cold-blooded, (c'mon) and rugged, rugged and raw (Yo, let let me get a little taste of this here) for you and yours, for you and yours..
The simps, uhh uhh uhh uhh These studs me, uhh uhh uhh uhh As a, intense MC, to be the reign on the industry I penitentiary talk, Coke and a Hennesey walk My imagery talks, metaphors and similes Time for war, my artillery caulks the nigga I'm killin 'em Dealin golf, gettin blowed on the course I be dissin magazines, but buy The Source Can't why the force, is with me Known to bring a rapper down - like did Whitney Sophisticated sissies strut like this is Street in backpacks Braggin how they eat meat and abstract I em with they skateboard, flee the crime scene with a rhyme scheme to frauds Make broads become queens, run things a rasta sprinter The way you want the game I rub off like I remain like a tattoo natural raps Copy like a fax that's y'all actual Battle raps is where it began, I'ma end it I land I done of, a master plan, it goes
C to the, (yeah, c'mon) cold-blooded, (ya know) (ain't it) Rough and rugged, (c'mon) and raw for you and yours, for you and You got the C to the, cold-blooded, Rough and rugged, and raw for you and yours, for you and You got the C to the, (yeah, hey) (na-nasty, yo yo) hard-core Rough and rugged, and raw (ain't it, ain't it) for you and yours, for you and You got the C to the, cold-blooded, (c'mon) and rugged, rugged and raw for you and yours, for you and yours..
[Common ad-libs, then vocal samples til end]