Song Page - Lyrify.me

Lyrify.me

Cold Facts by Ka Lyrics

Genre: rap | Year: 2012

[Intro]
Sutter and Stone, Rockaway and Dumont
The gritty arteries of Brownsville

[Verse 1]
They stand the test, got Father Time rhymes
I know I'm blessed, Father, pardon my crimes
Just wanted to stack and ride Beemers
Don't laugh on the ave with a pack of hyenas
Come through with the pride, get attacked with five ninas
Got trapped, now I'm fly, now I'm back with my Venus
The dream is live clean and good livin'
As free as it seem, but this shit is a hood prison
So we sold that poison like Bivins
Made noise and quietly gave sisters nice ribbons
Fuck them cops and swats with night vision
Give me three days, we'll celebrate like Christ's risen
Grew up with good-spirited goons
Now I only see 'em in tombs or in visiting rooms
Hold the chrome tight, the beast's on the creep
I own the night, the heat's my receipt
I need peace, all that beef shit is weak
When niggas that talk trash get sweeped in the street
Washed down the gutter
Whatever remains gets tossed round your mother
Jump the squares, made 'em crown another
I see your traps and your plots to dead us
Y'all rolling with Kojaks, nigga, I got Berettas
(I got fucking Berettas, nigga)
[Chorus]
I heat it up with cold facts
You're a victim
I heat it up with...

[Verse 2]
Cold pyrotechnics with no alarms
I blew up the block when I sold them bombs
Little niggas who didn't turn pros is cons
Guns 24 karat, got golden arms
Good metal, don't settle for silver, bronze
Fruits of my labor, I'm building farms
The illest psalms written with killer palms
And a scoundrel mind
But nice, cyphed with anybody down to rhyme
Too much vision, them niggas soundin' blind
They must be in the dark, downing swine
A titan... yeah, but I'm enlightened
Should build museums from all the shit I'm writin'
Y'all niggas weak, check my speak, start bitin'
I don't speak too much; words' more potent
Live niggas say it with me; herbs, don't quote it
Colt loaded, waitin' for a reason
Praise me when I'm dead, make bread while I'm breathin'
Can't take it when I'm leavin'
Judge me too quick, mistake me as a heathen
Because I had tools, moved weight, and was thievin'
But I was broke, out the gate I was grievin'
Had a cold heart, 'cause my apartment was freezin'
Studied this thirty years, so you could say it's mastered
Thorough nigga, it's in my nucleic acid (Victim)
[Chorus]
I heat it up with cold facts
You're a victim
I heat it up with cold facts

[Outro]
[?]
[?]
You're a victim
[?]
[?]
You're a victim
You're a victim
"The person who wrote that is dangerous"