Lyrics A Cold Sunday - Lil Yachty
It's
a
cold
Sunday
to
complain
I
hold
it
in
until
it
rain
I
fought
demons
after
fame
I
spent
millions
on
terrain
I
treat
my
bitch
just
like
Diana
Pretty
princess,
hold
the
Fanta
2003
Dolce
Gabbana
jeans
make
her
ass
look
fatter
We
gon'
catch
him
outside,
he
don't
got
no
money
for
the
backup
I
ran
30
million
in
the
ground,
baby,
now
I'm
back
up
She
a
city
girl,
I'm
the
real
reason
that
she
act
up
(hmm)
She
talk
back,
I
make
her
pack
up,
send
her
home
on
Spirit
Something
in
my
spirit
made
me
not
believe
or
fear
(hmm)
I
know
bitches
parrots,
so
I'm
watchin'
how
I'm
speakin'
Single
but
I'm
creepin',
my
main
bitch
don't
need
a
headache
(ooh)
Half
a
mil'
on
Maybach,
tires
flat,
I
never
drive
'em
(hmm)
Pretty
hoes
need
stylin',
Balenci'
shopping
got
'em
wildin'
Tweakin'
out
on
Collins,
in
my
veins,
the
molly
throbbin'
(geekin')
Rich
as
hell,
still
robbin',
ain't
no
love
the
way
I'm
rockin'
Bentley
color
goblin,
forest
green,
the
lane
I'm
hoggin'
(spin)
Wrap
the
P
like
swallin',
get
it
through
yo'
fuckin'
noggin
(damn)
Money's
first,
I'm
always
dialed
in
(ooh,
krrt)
Money's
first,
I'm
always
dialed
in,
is
that
a
problem?
(Go)
I
made
'em
off
a
TV
like
I
work
for
Viacom
Doggy
didn't
stay
for
long,
he
left
when
the
sirens
rung
Flyest
niggas
with
turnt
bitches,
BDs
in
the
tightest
diamonds
I
could've
put
out
wildfires,
at
the
house
behind
barbed
wire
25
but
living
like
I'm
50
with
three
kids
All
these
bitches
in
my
biz,
five-hundred
thousand
on
my
bitch
(ooh)
Fuck
if
you
don't
like
me
I'ma
still
get
faded
more
than
likely,
it's
enticing
I'll
die
for
my
respect
(phew)
Heaven
must
to
save
you
(it's
us)

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