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All The Smoke - Cold Summer Lyrics

[Intro]
Thank You Fizzle

[Verse 1: Fenix Flexin]
What we doin' nigga?
Prolly gettin' to it
I was runnin' to the bag and now I'm runnin' through it
What your shirt nigga? Shit is prolly Gucci
It all started with a DM now I'm in the coochie
What you sippin' on? Prolly syrup nigga
I keep a baby bottle like I'm finna burp a nigga
You been on your ass, I been workin' nigga
20 bands on your head gon make em' turn against you
Let em' hate, I got this money [?]
I heard you sign that deal for couple hundred thousand
That some petty money, boy I need a mil
Keep it real we done made it here without the deal
I ain't hatin' I'm just speakin' on some real facts
If you know us we was poppin' way before the rap
If I fuck your bitch tonight you ain't gon get her back
If she hit that road for me she get a couple racks
I be speakin' what I got, you talkin' what you had
Reminiscin' ass niggas livin' in the past
You be in your little feelings, I be in the bag
All these favors I been doin', I'm these niggas dads
Teachin' niggas somethin', like we studyin' nigga
I'm tryna live my life in peace, you steady buggin' a nigga
One thang for sure, I ain't with the talkin'
If she ain't comin' out no money, she can get to walkin'
If I fuck her off this perc is she gon' get to stalkin'?
You niggas playin' with my dogs, like we won't get to barkin'
We got the mops nigga, gon' proceed with caution
You think it's crazy, not to me
I swear we do this often
Crack the seal on a pint, then we pour it
Can I trust you with this work, or would you blow it?
Swear I know these niggas pussy, cause they show it
He ain't no shoota, why he got it?
He just hold it
[Verse 2: Master Kato]
Ay, ay, ay, ay
Young wavy nigga, bitch I'm out here gettin' paper
Ballin' in L.A. I keep that purple like a Laker
I don't want that bitch but if I want it imma take her
Bitch I get them cookies out the oven like a baker
Juice-man, perc-man, molly and I serve xans
Gettin' all this money, spend a thousand on a shirt man
Louis V it wrapped around my head, look like a turban
No I ain't gotta cap out none this shit, my niggas splurgin'
Foreign car swervin', Glock-cocked nervous
Cold in the summer but these hot shots burnin'
Foreign car swervin', Glock-cocked nervous
Cold in the summer but these hot shots burnin'