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