Lyrics:
when it's cold - God's favorite
Can't break the soul of a country girl, living in a wild world
Boots on from sunrise to sunset
She’s got that look that
can put it all on them diamonds but you still ain't lit as us
That's how I live it up
Pushing round my old hood in that brand new Bentley truck
I was
should have never left Texas
No, I should have never left Texas
I can't find a rodeo or cold Lone Star
And there's no country music in these big ol' city
that fuck shit you can hush it
Taking trip across the country
We blow everyday
I smoke cali trees In Tennessee
Bitch we on wedding cake
I thought it
Venice, we saw Puglia and Tuscany
You might have more money but you've never left the country
Who's really rich?
They hit us and say, "Oh, Russ can sing,
you if you brown
Shoot you in cold blooded murder if you black
But tell you join the Army, here's a gun
Invade Iraq
Get em the oil, get maimed by a bomb
it out of the trenches
Never look back, I ain't pressing rewind
Thank God for the way that I'm living
I never slipped off my pivot
And I can tell
where in the country they say I don't fit in
By one lonely kid, my songs might be heard
One lonely kid, words that ring of resilience
Tales of the love
get
Then you can see me flyin in the Bentley cockpit
Lox and B-I, hold our grica down for years
Gang not, but we been had our black tears
Niggaz under
we not talking again
I'm popping perky's and I'm coughing again
I can't even pretend, shawty got me like
Woah, baby why you gotta be so cold
I'm ten
he bitch, bitch
Belong in commercials, I advertise Bentley
Infiltrate the whole spot by some jit-jits
Yeah I send a hit-hit, on that face in
a fridge
Cold as hell but still will stop from spoiling any fruits from labor
Fuck a hater
Y'all can suck my dick and tell me what's the flavor
I'm darth
Big ol' trucks, big ol' guns
And you can bet yo' ass we don't run (we don't run!)
I keep an ice cold beer and two bad broads
Now let me tell ya
On the back half of a Sunday
Sunshine dripping like country time lemonade
12 pack of cold cans fighting off a heat wave
No way we ain't having us a good day
Put
the Audi so you can't deny
Margiela spend a nigga rent up on my feet
It's a cold world so I'm
Workin' with the heat
It's a bad bitch boolin' in
The Coupe
Louisiana home
And all I got in return was a darn country song
This whole country wrong
What would you write if you just put a little ice on
And cut your
Betty girl, she stay down, keep her on the Greyhound
With that stuff between her legs (bus departing now)
Out of [?] we moving reefer by the pound
Haunted by the devil
Or ghosts and boogeymen
I can't be concerned
Why should I care
No place I'd go alone would compare
'Cause I know, I know you're
and
To say you're right, you can
Hope for a better life
You can do it differently
Miss Shakur did not go on a rampage
About the people who shot her son
I'm
don't regret
It's a backwoods, feel good, up all night
Party like it's 1969
Trailer trashed down by the river
Hop up in the shotgun, grab another cold
that shit open
Like taking the d
Country hoe in her zone
It's the inches for me
Inches for me
Ten strong with a curve
Get up in the pussy
Make the pussy
show ya boy rollin'
I'm cold wit' da' flow no boast but y'all boring
Holding my coast by myself never folding
Throwing the SQAD 7 up lettin' em know
on you can tell I'm-a bandit
Left that bitch in the past, and my name d**, safe to say she "abandoned"
White man country with chains on, ain't nobody gonna
fold up, origami
Put them all in Winnebago
Around the country, where did they go
Get this paper for as long as I can take it
I've been hypnotized by
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