Cold Summa ft. Thekevooo Lyrics

Her heart is cold it's not even summer

It's not even summer

It's not even summer

It's not even summer

If I fuck you bitch

I guarantee I fuck her hard

In a room sponsored

By your master card

She passes me the ass

I'm a shooting guard

Nice handle nothing

You can guard

Three-point score yeah, mi Amor

She went up with me

Simon and Theodore

Look at her credit score

Why would I died her for

Give her the dinosaur dick

She was mega soar

I got your mother's phone number

In my phone nigga

It's New York

New nas and old Jigga

It's kevo the pussy getter

We just took your little nigga

To the babysitter

She wants me to hit it raw

And have a baby with her

The wet wap 3 lazy nigga

Drive her crazy my waves wavy 380

She going crazy for the baby gravy

I'm contemplating

About that baby Maybe

The account said I gotta

Think about the vacation

380, so the bitch try to play me

Call galaxy he said LA shit is crazy

Her heart is cold it's getting better

It's getting better, no

It's getting better, no

It's getting better, no

Her heart is cold it's getting better

It's getting better, no

It's getting better, no

It's getting better, huh

Her heart is cold it's getting better

It's getting better, no

It's getting better, no

It's getting better

Switching whips like I switch my cap

Got shawty she on my umm

Shawty know me, I got that money

I got that cheese, I got that cash

Niggas know I'm switching lines

Yeah you know I be on the westside

Yeah, damn, yeah, yeah

Look at my chain, Look at my watch

Fuck your bitch, I'm switching lines

I'm getting cash, I'm getting cash

And call them bitches

They coming fast

I denting dishes, I the hood

I getting cash, they know my name

They call me kevooo

I add that extra o o

They call me Kev ow ow

Cause everything I do it's like vodo

Looking at you and you too

That's a freestyle of my mental

I gotta bring it back

Cause I write better with the pencil

And If yall niggas see me next week

You bring out the stencils

You try to copy me and copy b

And I'm off respect

You fuck, Protect your neck

I can protect your check

That's a fake Patek, ouch

You have a rash on your neck

I pull out the gun, men, and flash at your set

I blast on your dexs, I'm from L.E with the

Come on bro

We probably not gonna do adlibs on

This part shit is crazy, huh

She ran with the wrong nigga all summer

With a broking lock

That only bleeds phone numbers