Rust climbing up the back panel
Minus forty with the plaid flannel
Black mask with the iced breath
Born and bred just to fight death
They told me paper gonna change me
I'm told em Naw, my paper gonna change you
Cause it's the real shit that made me
And the fake shit that plague you
This shit feel like a fur coat
This shit feel like some cashmere
Frozen goods the world cold
Just trying to surpass last year
He no good, the god hungry
Not for food, for money dummy
Unsullied, Jackpot baby jackpot, they all love me
Real G's don't flash, cause flashing cash get it grabbed at and snatched
And real G's stay in the back where the paper get stacked
And wrapped up in masses
It'll rot before we spend it
Gotta find a law and bend it
Buy a laundromat and blend it
Clean it up invest it
I don't care what I look like
I care what my books look like
That money making money
That my people live a good life
Ayo cuzzy man hit'em with that futuristic, boombastic
Break your f*cking neck, fantastic
Let's go
Blacked out villain in the white snow
There's silent ghosts on them tight ropes
They try and take what you love most, Ayo
Life is cut throat
Cash stacked in the back of the Acura
Black jacket Dracula, accurate the cannon draw
George the animal in camouflage
Still stand, pantheon
Ice god, mastodon
Camera on
We make money, invest it, paper sent to Nassau it's endless
In the black like we astral, it's destined
Ayo, Momma get a new jag to rest in
No question
Holy smoke rolling out the caddy window
Only bags of platinum indo
Bully Bravado, gelato aficionado
Quad smoke in the grotto
Cash Rule Everything Around me
Never own me, no bozo, no clown feet
Only the realest left surround me
No foes, no hoes left to cloud me
We the illest
I don't care what I look like
I care what my books look like
That money making money,
That my people live a good life
Cold Camp
Yo Dirty, hit 'em with that raw shit
That quick draw Mcgraw shit
Out the Xterra, kill e'm like Whoa
Cold Camp - Live A Good Life (feat. Jackpot, Bully Bravo & The Dirty Sample) Lyrics
Cold Camp - Live A Good Life (feat. Jackpot, Bully Bravo & The Dirty Sample) Lyrics
Official
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English
Rust climbing up the back panel
Minus forty with the plaid flannel
Black mask with the iced breath
Born and bred just to fight death
They told me paper gonna change me
I'm told em Naw, my paper gonna change you
Cause it's the real shit that made me
And the fake shit that plague you
This shit feel like a fur coat
This shit feel like some cashmere
Frozen goods the world cold
Just trying to surpass last year
He no good, the god hungry
Not for food, for money dummy
Unsullied, Jackpot baby jackpot, they all love me
Real G's don't flash, cause flashing cash get it grabbed at and snatched
And real G's stay in the back where the paper get stacked
And wrapped up in masses
It'll rot before we spend it
Gotta find a law and bend it
Buy a laundromat and blend it
Clean it up invest it
I don't care what I look like
I care what my books look like
That money making money
That my people live a good life
Ayo cuzzy man hit'em with that futuristic, boombastic
Break your f*cking neck, fantastic
Let's go
Blacked out villain in the white snow
There's silent ghosts on them tight ropes
They try and take what you love most, Ayo
Life is cut throat
Cash stacked in the back of the Acura
Black jacket Dracula, accurate the cannon draw
George the animal in camouflage
Still stand, pantheon
Ice god, mastodon
Camera on
We make money, invest it, paper sent to Nassau it's endless
In the black like we astral, it's destined
Ayo, Momma get a new jag to rest in
No question
Holy smoke rolling out the caddy window
Only bags of platinum indo
Bully Bravado, gelato aficionado
Quad smoke in the grotto
Cash Rule Everything Around me
Never own me, no bozo, no clown feet
Only the realest left surround me
No foes, no hoes left to cloud me
We the illest
I don't care what I look like
I care what my books look like
That money making money,
That my people live a good life
Cold Camp
Yo Dirty, hit 'em with that raw shit
That quick draw Mcgraw shit
Out the Xterra, kill e'm like Whoa
Minus forty with the plaid flannel
Black mask with the iced breath
Born and bred just to fight death
They told me paper gonna change me
I'm told em Naw, my paper gonna change you
Cause it's the real shit that made me
And the fake shit that plague you
This shit feel like a fur coat
This shit feel like some cashmere
Frozen goods the world cold
Just trying to surpass last year
He no good, the god hungry
Not for food, for money dummy
Unsullied, Jackpot baby jackpot, they all love me
Real G's don't flash, cause flashing cash get it grabbed at and snatched
And real G's stay in the back where the paper get stacked
And wrapped up in masses
It'll rot before we spend it
Gotta find a law and bend it
Buy a laundromat and blend it
Clean it up invest it
I don't care what I look like
I care what my books look like
That money making money
That my people live a good life
Ayo cuzzy man hit'em with that futuristic, boombastic
Break your f*cking neck, fantastic
Let's go
Blacked out villain in the white snow
There's silent ghosts on them tight ropes
They try and take what you love most, Ayo
Life is cut throat
Cash stacked in the back of the Acura
Black jacket Dracula, accurate the cannon draw
George the animal in camouflage
Still stand, pantheon
Ice god, mastodon
Camera on
We make money, invest it, paper sent to Nassau it's endless
In the black like we astral, it's destined
Ayo, Momma get a new jag to rest in
No question
Holy smoke rolling out the caddy window
Only bags of platinum indo
Bully Bravado, gelato aficionado
Quad smoke in the grotto
Cash Rule Everything Around me
Never own me, no bozo, no clown feet
Only the realest left surround me
No foes, no hoes left to cloud me
We the illest
I don't care what I look like
I care what my books look like
That money making money,
That my people live a good life
Cold Camp
Yo Dirty, hit 'em with that raw shit
That quick draw Mcgraw shit
Out the Xterra, kill e'm like Whoa
Writer: Josh Thorp
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid