| Sliding through the city, caught shining, music real loud | |
| Seat way back, laid back with the windows rolled down | |
| Ohhh, everybody's talking | |
| Eyes on me, they can't stop watching | |
| I'm so cold, I'm so co-oh-old | |
| [Rapper Big Pooh] | |
| I feel tremendous, splendid even | |
| You can put it in the air, homey I ain't leaving | |
| Didn't major run but them hoes were teasing | |
| So I'm back to doing me, yo finally breathing | |
| Shooting out loads while you niggas are skeeting | |
| Had a moment of clarity while you still geeking | |
| Kicked down the door, ain't no need to peek in | |
| I'm a bold muh'fucker, got both of my feet in | |
| People got a pension for seeding | |
| Just make sure I'm slided at the top when the brackets is out | |
| Cause Poobie make tears appear from the fear | |
| I steer in my peers when they hear me shout | |
| I'm a man, never see me pout | |
| Eighty-eight never see my route, till I scored again | |
| Most niggas live life in a fantasy world | |
| Deep rooted in reality, no time to pretend nigga! | |
| [Chorus: Phonte] | |
| We love to party, love to ball we | |
| love to floss with no shame | |
| We act a fool, we rock the jewels | |
| Got people calling our names | |
| So plain to see, I can't believe | |
| you ever thought that I'd change (let 'em know how I'm living) | |
| So cold, bout twenty below | |
| So cold, bout twenty below | |
| Heeey | |
| [Phonte] | |
| Yo, I promise you don't want no part of this mayne | |
| You a slave, still a part of the chain | |
| and Phonte is a part of the change | |
| And to my whores galore, I thank you for your support like ballers and chains | |
| I go past the pulpit, and triple 5 past your bullshit | |
| just to get to the heart of it and | |
| I get deep in your cartilage, all y'all singing | |
| My ball swinging like Christmas ornaments mayne | |
| I'ma keep on keep on at the dime of a drop | |
| and your time on the top, but he won't be long | |
| When I spit that hardness niggas all testify | |
| that Phonte's a rhyme phe-no-me-non | |
| I hail from the city of the martyrs | |
| Greensboro, spit thoro for the robbers and the bloggers | |
| And even for the fathers listening with their kids | |
| like "'Te and Chaundon, hot damn they got a problem", for real! | |
| [Chorus: Phonte] | |
| [Chaundon] | |
| Uh Chaundilla, none iller than I | |
| and the Replacement Killer, my nigga who gon' try? | |
| So cold, you should all come thank me | |
| If the flow was a rock form I could probably sell it to Franky | |
| Uh, "inhale..." you can all breathe easy | |
| Bring it to your chest, now you all +Lil Weezy+ (yeaah) | |
| I'm so naughty, surrounded by fake tits | |
| It's like I'm at a Tupperware party | |
| Currently the PC type, hauling my pink toe | |
| Need to meet the hoes, yeah we fucking tonight | |
| Yeah I act a fool but this is still the curriculum flow | |
| to take you wack niggas back to school | |
| If you ain't pay your dues I'm coming through with the invisible bully | |
| You Arnold Jackson niggas scared of "The Gooch" | |
| Really scared of the truth, they came prepared with a noose | |
| They'd rather kill themselves than be compared to me in the booth | |
| [Chorus: Phonte] |
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