Son.Wts - Cole Bastard Lyrics

Soul snatcher
Son Coleman, a cold bastard

Go the dumbest
Nothing in Common
With Cole and Tommy

Tummy aches
Cold cuts, this dummy ate
A money hungry snake
These bees, be like Stevie, Wondering how the honey taste
Shining bright as Sonny's face
Keep my dick out your mouth, if it's a funny taste
Getting bags with my dad, on a money chase
Zip it, pick the locks, make sure your money safe
Cause it's some money hungry snakes

In the Garden of Eden
Sparking the weeding
So pardon, the fart if you breathing
Apart of your Heart really grieving
Don't go barking up Treason

Sparking the leaves
Cold blooded, the darker I bleed
Getting smarter, check the charts when I read
So much art from the start of a creed
Raising our daughters to breed
Don't take Ls living life larger for free
My partners agree
I came Adam, like my partner was Eve

Apple has this app
Like Snapple, has a snap

Cut the chatter with a Rat

Not the Cheddar
Don't got forever, to shredder
Body at the top of the header

Got it popping like kettle
Rocking like metal
Don't be cock blocking like feathers

The birds eye view
Who heard I do
Prefer my boo
Have curves like You

U-Turn
It's your turn, ima let you learn
Don't toucher like Usher, that's a new burn

Or did he spark a new flame
My heart locked, and I'm dreaded with 2chainz
Lu Kane
I kick it with my boo thang

Boo'd Up Boo'd
I don't give, 2 f*cks, you f*cked

Life is short, as Pac 2 biggie
Unsolved mysteries, cause the cops too busy
In one of the top 2 cities
Locksmiths, like the locks do Smitty
Son getting hot as the block, too Litty
Keep it a hundred, and drop 2 fifties
You took her to the candy shop, she not too pretty
If my cock, do fitty

In the kitty
Then I'ma do sixty in a fifty
Jiggling titties
Nibbling bitty
Little bit tipsy

Whining like liquor
Playing with minds, I'ma tricker
Go in behind and I dicker
Love the way she grind and I digger
A star, shining for wishers
Caught in a flash, you blind to the picture
Combining a mixture

Dozens of dimes come with change
Doesn't the rhyme come with flames

What if Lebron, wasn't James
What will become, of his name
Look what he's done, for the game

No Jayceon
Don't play Keeson

Mfs tell me, Son you not lit
Just cause iont be on some hot shit
I'm headed to the top bitch
Came from the bottom, to a top pick
Album dropping like it's hot bitch
Album dropping like some hot grits

I feast the Chinese, with chop sticks
First round, like a top pick
Bitches wet because they know I drip, and drop dick

I won't go, somewhere I don't know

But

I do know.. I'ma dog, like Cujo... You so, OOUU Bo
Hop off my track, you too slow... Stuck in old ways with a new flow

I don't change speed, or lanes either... I stay inside the lines, with the same people