album cover
Cold War
332
Hardcore Rap
Cold War wurde am 29. Mai 2026 von T.C.F. Music Group als Teil des Albums 8 Shots veröffentlicht
album cover
Album8 Shots
Veröffentlichungsdatum29. Mai 2026
LabelT.C.F. Music Group
SpracheEnglish
Melodizität
Akustizität
Valence
Tanzbarkeit
Energie
BPM77

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Justin Harrell
Justin Harrell
Rap
T. Smith
T. Smith
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Justin Harrell
Justin Harrell
Songwriter
T. Smith
T. Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Moose Tarantino
Moose Tarantino
Producer
Parks Valley
Parks Valley
Mixing Engineer
Rome Palermo
Rome Palermo
Mastering Engineer

Songtexte

Know what I'm sayin'?
Huh
Yeah
Ayo, I don't like to talk that much, I let a bullet bust
Y'all so sweet when we beef, I call it sugar rush
You never played the block with a sack full of stuff
And if a dopehead don't die, it's not good enough
I'm from the Rock, but I drove blocks to the Buff
Pull up to your spot in a drop with the wooden buffs
I stood in cuts up top where cops couldn't rush
The hood is rough, you either in a box or put in cuffs
Somehow I managed to dodge both
Can't take the paper with you, either way you gon' die broke
I'm tired of hoes always braggin' 'bout what they job gross
In fly coats to go and suck dick for a living, her job gross, uh
I keep a .45 close when I buy coke
When I was young, I used to rob folks
Don't know who to trust, that's why I put blindfolds on my side hoes
Only my mind know the address to the condos
Convos behind closed doors
Back in '04, I survived a cold war when them guys froze
**** get CDLs to drive loads
Middle of the winter, they be prayin' for dry roads
Ayo, pass me the Caymus and the Golden Horseshoe
Have a seat, you lookin' like you need someone to talk to
Before you talk, I'ma talk to you first, that's what a boss do
Or I'ma have you layin' stiff 'cross
The table like the Caymus corkscrew
While I'm overcookin' the beef, that's when I mourn you
Worry **** while gettin' ready for the funeral forced you
To lay down in a rectangular box until they torched you
And cremated with the hope of your parents created and thought you
Would've amounted to somethin' that ended up as nothin'
Don't play with your life, bitch, bad gamble
With my calculated movement, illustrious handle, listen
See, I believe it's a good time, I think you better fret
Tonight I'm thinkin' of spittin'
A good rhyme, let me get feedback from X
So elaborate how I'm abundant with shine
You probably had to text 'cause you can't talk to me
That's when **** wonder what happened next
A situation transpires and now your mans is vexed
That's when you gotta go and get resourceful and scroll the Rolodex
Godfather of the shit, I'm holdin' all the checks
Regulatin' protons, neutrons, and electrons, controllin' all aspects
Cokehead, you **** sniff a good line
Until you disconnect, it's celebration time
You gettin' to the money
My ****, big respect and honor each other
Don't bother me, brother, have some decency
I'm unapologetic about how you not alignin' with the frequency
Another level of supervision for the culture is what it need to be
Thirty-five years of bodies, but still been killin' 'em recently
Disintegrate these **** to particles, they ask for leniency
Pardon, God, I'm only bein' me
Written by: Justin Harrell, T. Smith
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