Cold - Sam Lachow, Nacho Picasso, Ryan Campbell

No drawls on your girl I’m goosing her

God’s child but I’m horny as Lucifer

So hung, that she thought I was noosing her

Come her, treat my life like a booster chair

Dark skin, but she Punky Brewster hair

Cut a Mohawk, now she got rooster hair

I hear moaning from the bathroom, who’s in there?

Know at least one bow wanna… in there (?)

When I step in the room they think Zeus in here

How I piss them all off, I’m the goose in here

They call me Nacho, just like Libre

Invite your BFF, we can have us a three-way

The lines last forever, we can have us a freeway

I stick to the plan, I’ll be downed if I pre-pay

He brave, kissed the mouth full of bj’s

She just left the Moor Gang, sexing

For three days

Merry fucking Christmas

Let’s kill this bottle in like four or five minutes

You stay the night, at least do the fucking dishes

I say that to the

Misses

You don’t like white boys?

I promise you I’m different

You don’t know that shit

Big business, I’m a grown ass kid

You don’t notice, you bogus

So let’s take a long ride

Hop in the whip, you roll with Sammy tonight

Now tell your man take a hike

Kid I’m an artist when I spark it

Picasso on a bong bowl

It’s Rembrandt on a blunt wrap

Got them all singing along though

Flick that Bic my dude, can’t you see that it’s a snow day

Fingers barely moving, still I Monet when I roll J’s

It’s ok, take a seat, grab your sleigh, blow that sweet

If we have some problems they melted like snow under our feet

Grown ass kids, still smoking in the cold

Man you only live once, might as well never get old