This is a song about "I rida on bika get cold"

Creepin up on you fell me,cold air.

You got a baby boy or girl in there

Cause i abhor a sloth and i'm as cold as a storm on hoth,

I'm too explosive for your ears like i'm throwing bombs

I could get you shot, on the spot

The pain don't stop, but my reign don't stop

But for long time i had gone cold

All this paper i fold

I flow cold but my aura brings flames when i spit on this beat i rip spines

Bet they on my dick tonight, all my women fly as shit, why your bitches scared of heights

I breathe fire, cause it's too cold

Doing time in the pen and your gram's old

If she don't fake, i work that pussy out, like it was outta shape

I get on beats and defecate on rappers who are second rate

Hair weave killer had on louie's in my mug shot

Fake niggas get cold-cocked, twenties on the stove top,