Intro:
Cold Steppa
Swag, swag
Swag, swag, swag, swag
Tell that boy “Go ‘head and get it.”
Ha, Chi-Chi!
Autrinetta
Verse 1:
Hold up! Wait a minute! Freeze time when it’s passing
The film cut the scene, and I’m back with the action
Drove the whip and steady drift and crashed it
Relapsed in the flash, (then you asked me “what happened?”)
Hold the pic, that post will need a caption
A flow this sick will catch a cold, heart attack, and
Your nose will drip like it was gold in Alaskan
I stole your chick, you ain’t notice it
Then, I froze my wrist like snow caps in the mountain
Drip gold like a fountain
See, I came from the dirt. Sow my seeds in the ground, and now
I got monеy trees sprouting
Each branch holds a fruit of at least a thousand bucks
Harvest the cash and it keeps on counting up
Gardеn of Eden, my city plowing up
The fruits of the spirit grew from a flower bud
Rose gold blossom with some karats in it
Embedded on a watch with the frames tinted
All my niggas really dreamed for this
Since we were kids
Talking about how everybody wanna wear designer swag
Cuz we hold pride in the price tag
Ain’t no ghetto nigga got that type of cash
To buy GUCCI, Louis, PRADA, any GAP Outliner Bag
I’d rather buy a meal ticket
Split it with intentions to hide in my stash
High-speed data T-Mobile Fast
4Gs on my wheels, rolling past
All my homies who were really good in the hood
But were never taught to know what’s bad
When their life flashed
Seen it on the screen like Chromecast
Should’ve known that
Pre-Chorus:
And in case you didn’t know, (you didn’t know)
My drip too sick. This ain’t no type of common cold. (no common cold)
I never miss. I hit my target, that’s for sure. (bullseye)
I could take yo chick, but I would rather get my own
Chorus:
Hmmm
I’m a Cold Steppa. (yeah, yeah)
I might slide through yo hood like it’s no pressure
Got M’s in the bank like woah. (yeah)
Don’t care what you think no more. (swag)
Reserves in the tank on the low. (swag)
But I still gotta get on go! (swag)
Verse 2:
I pull up like skrrt! (slow it down)
Just bought my whip full cost with no monthly payments. (yeah)
To say my drip too hard is a understatement
Half it at least. Show you ‘bout that action in these streets
Niggas know my sauce is packing
Like a six-piece chicken wing splashing in the grease
Out the way! I’m a Hot Boy
Red carpet stroll through the cut
I know you ain’t tough walking with a fake pair of J’s on
Stop it! You showing your bluff
And when I walk in with 3B good hair
My curls is popping
Next favorite rapper on your top ten
Its nonsense
How everybody think I’m sentimental cuz I’m freaking light-skinned
I’m a hard-core analyzer. Cool, calm, and calculated plan advisor
Real pimp, slimp-back. All I know is how to get the panty-liner
Blew through a whole check like Carolina in a hurricane
I’m too brisky
Keep it a hunnid like it’s two 50s
Hot Boy Summertime
I’m hitting this chick in the back of my Camry
She bad. She blowing my shocks out. (damn)
I go Ronda Rousey on hoes
Beat the pussy up and call it a knock-out! (TKO!)
I don’t mess with typicals
My wrist too critical, dropping the temperature, Frost Out. (brrr)
Getting that brain, that top, that knowledge
Successful in college. I’m never gon’ drop out!
I had to do it like this to get it like that
I’m ready to pop out
Been a boss. I’m on top now
Don’t need a dentist, I’m flossed out
Hop out the coupe, I’m independent from mom’s house
I got the juice. I send a pic of somebody’s dick
And then I log out
I had to chose which friends to cross out
I cut them all. They ain’t fit my lifestyle
Chorus:
Hmmm
I’m a Cold Steppa. (yeah, yeah)
I might slide through yo hood like it’s no pressure
Got M’s in the bank like woah. (yeah)
Don’t care what you think no more. (swag)
Reserves in the tank on the low. (swag)
But I still gotta get on go! (swag)
Outro:
Racks on racks
Hands up when I step to the mat. (yeah)
Leave hoes dead on track
I’m a young fly nigga and that’s on that!
Swag, swag, swag, swag
Swag, swag, swag, swag
Chorus:
Hmmm
I’m a Cold Steppa. (yeah, yeah)
I might slide through yo hood like it’s no pressure
Got M’s in the bank like woah. (yeah)
Don’t care what you think no more. (swag)
Reserves in the tank on the low. (swag)
But I still gotta get on go! (swag)
Outro:
Racks on racks
Hands up when I step to the mat
Leave hoes dead on track
I’m a young fly nigga and that’s on that!
Swag, swag, swag, swag. (I’m a Cold Steppa)
Swag, swag, swag, swag. (I’m a Cold Steppa)
(yeah)
Cold Steppa
Swag, swag
Swag, swag, swag, swag
Tell that boy “Go ‘head and get it.”
Ha, Chi-Chi!
Autrinetta
Verse 1:
Hold up! Wait a minute! Freeze time when it’s passing
The film cut the scene, and I’m back with the action
Drove the whip and steady drift and crashed it
Relapsed in the flash, (then you asked me “what happened?”)
Hold the pic, that post will need a caption
A flow this sick will catch a cold, heart attack, and
Your nose will drip like it was gold in Alaskan
I stole your chick, you ain’t notice it
Then, I froze my wrist like snow caps in the mountain
Drip gold like a fountain
See, I came from the dirt. Sow my seeds in the ground, and now
I got monеy trees sprouting
Each branch holds a fruit of at least a thousand bucks
Harvest the cash and it keeps on counting up
Gardеn of Eden, my city plowing up
The fruits of the spirit grew from a flower bud
Rose gold blossom with some karats in it
Embedded on a watch with the frames tinted
All my niggas really dreamed for this
Since we were kids
Talking about how everybody wanna wear designer swag
Cuz we hold pride in the price tag
Ain’t no ghetto nigga got that type of cash
To buy GUCCI, Louis, PRADA, any GAP Outliner Bag
I’d rather buy a meal ticket
Split it with intentions to hide in my stash
High-speed data T-Mobile Fast
4Gs on my wheels, rolling past
All my homies who were really good in the hood
But were never taught to know what’s bad
When their life flashed
Seen it on the screen like Chromecast
Should’ve known that
Pre-Chorus:
And in case you didn’t know, (you didn’t know)
My drip too sick. This ain’t no type of common cold. (no common cold)
I never miss. I hit my target, that’s for sure. (bullseye)
I could take yo chick, but I would rather get my own
Chorus:
Hmmm
I’m a Cold Steppa. (yeah, yeah)
I might slide through yo hood like it’s no pressure
Got M’s in the bank like woah. (yeah)
Don’t care what you think no more. (swag)
Reserves in the tank on the low. (swag)
But I still gotta get on go! (swag)
Verse 2:
I pull up like skrrt! (slow it down)
Just bought my whip full cost with no monthly payments. (yeah)
To say my drip too hard is a understatement
Half it at least. Show you ‘bout that action in these streets
Niggas know my sauce is packing
Like a six-piece chicken wing splashing in the grease
Out the way! I’m a Hot Boy
Red carpet stroll through the cut
I know you ain’t tough walking with a fake pair of J’s on
Stop it! You showing your bluff
And when I walk in with 3B good hair
My curls is popping
Next favorite rapper on your top ten
Its nonsense
How everybody think I’m sentimental cuz I’m freaking light-skinned
I’m a hard-core analyzer. Cool, calm, and calculated plan advisor
Real pimp, slimp-back. All I know is how to get the panty-liner
Blew through a whole check like Carolina in a hurricane
I’m too brisky
Keep it a hunnid like it’s two 50s
Hot Boy Summertime
I’m hitting this chick in the back of my Camry
She bad. She blowing my shocks out. (damn)
I go Ronda Rousey on hoes
Beat the pussy up and call it a knock-out! (TKO!)
I don’t mess with typicals
My wrist too critical, dropping the temperature, Frost Out. (brrr)
Getting that brain, that top, that knowledge
Successful in college. I’m never gon’ drop out!
I had to do it like this to get it like that
I’m ready to pop out
Been a boss. I’m on top now
Don’t need a dentist, I’m flossed out
Hop out the coupe, I’m independent from mom’s house
I got the juice. I send a pic of somebody’s dick
And then I log out
I had to chose which friends to cross out
I cut them all. They ain’t fit my lifestyle
Chorus:
Hmmm
I’m a Cold Steppa. (yeah, yeah)
I might slide through yo hood like it’s no pressure
Got M’s in the bank like woah. (yeah)
Don’t care what you think no more. (swag)
Reserves in the tank on the low. (swag)
But I still gotta get on go! (swag)
Outro:
Racks on racks
Hands up when I step to the mat. (yeah)
Leave hoes dead on track
I’m a young fly nigga and that’s on that!
Swag, swag, swag, swag
Swag, swag, swag, swag
Chorus:
Hmmm
I’m a Cold Steppa. (yeah, yeah)
I might slide through yo hood like it’s no pressure
Got M’s in the bank like woah. (yeah)
Don’t care what you think no more. (swag)
Reserves in the tank on the low. (swag)
But I still gotta get on go! (swag)
Outro:
Racks on racks
Hands up when I step to the mat
Leave hoes dead on track
I’m a young fly nigga and that’s on that!
Swag, swag, swag, swag. (I’m a Cold Steppa)
Swag, swag, swag, swag. (I’m a Cold Steppa)
(yeah)
( Suede Tyrell )
www.ChordsAZ.com