Cold-Hearted (feat. Will is Chillin’)

[Verse 1: Bruce Bayne]

I'm cold-hearted so honest

Call my bluff there's snow on it

Hitting stains that tide to go on it

You don't feel the pain your life a soap opera

I goat tee with some gold teeth or a dog breed with a gold harness

I go hard as go Han Who do I put the joke on

Or the choke on like my go kart is broke down

Throw parties your part of town

I'm finding it funny like funny bones artifacts you thought was found

The worst posture the nerve to shoot a bird watcher

Throw you to the lions or the locker of Brian Urlacher

Irv gotti, I follow Jah's rules like Rastafari

Burnt bodies in a plane crash I'm living in a lost Safari

My shot Jabari, Chopping heads off I barbered a Barbie

It's a part of the bargain pardon my barge in, Hardly the third party

Harvest my heart arteries and all kinds of archives

I'm living with the carbine just to get threw the hard times

Grand larcenist and arsonist Antarctic trips

Got me so frigid so froze like computers that won't load

My Martian trip is parking in a parallel dimension

No exit exist tell me where the hell's the entrance

[Hook: Bruce Bayne]

I'm cold hearted cold blooded

I don't take no from no body

Cold hard cash no money

My life a movie with a low budget

I'm cold hearted no loving

My role models roll something

We look like we know something

Cold hearted soul crushing

[Verse 2: Will is Chillin']

Cold hearted no I'm lying I'm the lover type

Under lights orange glow is how I enjoy my summer nights

From the side the Cubs throw the ball around

I'm often found walking down Kimble and Milwaukee bumping something nice

In my headphones text a girl ask if her moms around her

In the end zone fuck it I'm writing a song about her

Numb to my feelings which must be the reason I'm leaving in such hurry

Scurry off my heart is beating in a freezer dust of flurrys

From an organ kept in storage hope I find someone important

Till then I sport an empty chest

Flowing like a river but my bank statement left a hefty stress

Deep in the pit of my stomach

I penned a couple of pennies to go and spit a summit

Of poets with nothing to the moniker my minds a blur

Still no clue what might occur in my future but I'm used to it

[Hook]