Cold Day in Hell-Boondox

I might burn like a sinner if they take my life, but it's a cold day in hell before they take my pride. I sell my soul to the devil for a .45, a black cowboy hat, & a switchblade knife. I sold my soul to the devil for this mic in my hand, but I ain't ever gonna sell out. A million dollars for my name to expand. Take ya fans & ya brands, & you can go an get the hell out. We really living in a f**ked up time. So many f**ked up minds inspire f**ked up crimes.& they be quick to sell you out at the drop of a dime. Too many coward motha f**kas livin life with no spine. My belly ache from these fake little snakes who come & go as they please just to get what they need. They use are name just to get a little fame. Then it's out like a flame. I wanna make these f**kas bleed. Like some hooker on the street. Sellin p**sy just to eat. Take the money & run. I wanna take out my heat. Pull up on em while they sleeping. You think that I don't see. Ya better take it on down the road. One thing I ain't is a self righteous saint. Too many sins been committed to ever get me acquitted. But it's a fact won't find a knife if ya back cause I put it all on this track, & to this sh*t I'm committed.& I won't ever leave ya hangin. Always keep that thang swangin like the f**kin d**e man I'm always stay slangin. Drivebys on these fake perpetrators stay bangin.