40 Below
It's cold in the winter, baby
And I don't know when I'm coming home
The moon is shine, under the sun
Let me walk, you can run
Something tells me you're not the one
Maybe you just don't understand
So why you wonder where I keep my gun
It's in my 40 Below's
I like chicks in spandex and lumberjacks
No hat to match, razorblade in the doobie rack
Just in case a bitch act, she get her wig pushed back
Catch a fucking bullet like Warren Sapp
Cause she stay with the mac, and fuck a backpack
She rather roll up on 5-6 and headcrack
And her mom always catching fucking heart attacks
Talking 'bout, "Fuck D Ferg, he ain't worth splat!"
Cause I dropped out of school and I drop slack
Missed work, gotta get up and hear my moms yap
Just 7.15 ain't doing it
Seeing niggas chrome-out 6, and they doing it
You see the street got corners and they using it
Momma told me don't be a fool and don't loose the shit
It's cold, 40 below, gun in the boot and shit
Ready start shooting shit, like I'm Bishop Juice'n it
And you don't want to end up like Steve
With steel to your grill because you didn't wanna fucking peel
Shit is real that I kick, I'm dead broke
Can't afford to smoke so I get high off of lead choke
Have you met Mr. Lee, oh, you gotsa meet her
Back shots off the meter and the hair adds to her features
She don't wear sneakers and she don't like reefer
Classy-ass bitch and she know when I kiss her
Love when I pull her hair low when I beat her
Hit it from the back and she sing like Aretha
First black nigga that she ever pursue
She loved my dick game, and chilling with the crew
It's true, we met back in junior high school
But didn't pursue to knocking boots, but she the truth
So I respect her, Beretta in the lever
Just in case a bitch is getting clever, however
She do what I tell her, make me a grilled cheese
She ask, "Babe, swiss or mozzarella?" She 'bout tell her
Versace hottie mami grimy with the body
But won't hesitate to drop a body for her papi
