It's Cold - Homeboy Sandman, Steve Arrington

It’s cold, so cold

It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, so cold

Never mind chillin, the cat graze

Secrets to life long nights and last days

City smells like poured bottles and ash trays

There is not enough palm olive

Midnight is when things just starting to take shape

Kids who aren’t ashamed are trying to make names

Captains on take aren’t likely to take breaks

People under age more likely to take aim

People in the pits risk prison or

People look at pics, start crying and break frames

X amount of moves not pretty will take place

Especially when your crew about skinny as great danes

These are teams that might got reason to make change

These are teams that ain’t got pieces to make trades

Squatters aren’t ready to vacate

When the fathers gon' stop going on vaca?

It’s cold, so cold

It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, so cold

No room for your elbows

Started shit wasn’t trying to wait until hell froze

Started veering off the run, start selling shell toes

If only you could pull your eyes away from your cell phone

Laugh to keep from tearing at the tyranny, tell jokes

Anxiety and fear interfere with the pheromones

Bang over bank notes

Embarrassed, a bad soul stripped to the bare bone

Goose downs, bubbles, and bear coats

There they go, repping their area code

Crossroads, early the cop croaks

Foot not in the door means hand on the hot stove

Freeze and put 'em up, those freedoms are not yours

Children aren’t phased, fave flavour is nacho

That and any meat that’s seasoned with

Wires on the saying it’s not so

It’s cold, so cold

It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold, so cold

This is the truth (yeah)

The countdown

City is an outhouse lost it and now found

City is a short putt missing the clown’s mouth

City is a two year old begging for pow-pow

City is a lighthouse during a blackout

City is a suede shoe under a black cloud

The city is a stone thrown in the glass house

City is a drunk spouse ready to spaz out

The city got a score to keep and it can’t count

The city be the cats me-owth, only these cats down

But bastards aren’t cast out

Buildings tall as tall tales, easy to cast out

The crackhouse and the crackdown

The yankee caps covering cats brows

Bluds they cold, cold-blooded as reptiles

Project towns, project out