Lyrics:
[Mad Skillz]
Now who done passed you a diaper and got you thinkin you the shit?
The styles I be inkin get you hyper when I get and attack tracks
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
(hot)
This is why I'm hot, I don't gotta rap
I could sell a mil' sayin' nothin' on the track
I represent New York, I got it on my back
Niggas say
(hot)
This is why I'm hot, I don't gotta rap
I could sell a mil' sayin' nothin' on the track
I represent New York, I got it on my back
Niggas say
not
Dis' is why, dis is why
Dis' is why ima hot
dis' why i'm hot i dont gotta rap
i can sell a meal sayin nothin on the track
I reppresent New York i
T Braxton heat, track I burn
While you go left, I make a right turn
(I'm Hot) Def Squad no one does it better
If it gets hot take off the hot sweater
City light, got me buggin and trife
Some die by the gun, some die by the knife
It's alright, like a game of spades I'm trump tight
Premier hit me with
phat tracks that combine and interlock
Like getting smashed by a cinder block
Blaow! now it's all over
Niggas seeing pink hearts, yellow moons
Orange
that unicorn on the road to love!
I'm on the road, I'm on the road to love
I'm on the road, I'm on the road to love
Get your hot rods ready to rumble
Hot hot
Hot hot
Hot hot
Hot hot
Hot boy, hot boy, take a nigga face off
Hot boy, hot boy, who else wanna face off
Hot boy, hot boy, twelve get shot
ramshack dead in the track, and that's that
Rap assassin, fastin, quick to blast and hardrock
I ran up in spots like Fort Knox!
I'm hot, top notch, Ghost
watching
Hey Mr DJ, drop that track and won't you turn it up?
I'ma dance all night and I don't care who's out there watching us
Just give me that fire
Randy Mac is clockin a stupid grip
On the party track I'm cold lampin
But when the Syndicate rolls I be jackin
You thought I fell off, I ain't even
that
Let's do it
[verse 1:]
You want me to jam I'm finna enta
Brain waves came from insane days
Make ya sick like bad mayonnaise
(Tech N9ne)
Got
My pappy said, "Son, you're gonna' drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop drivin' that Hot Rod Lincoln."
Have you heard this story of the Hot Rod
(Ion really care if you hot or not)
(You at my back, get off my track)
(You at my back, get off my track)
Yeah (Ion really care if you hot or not)
the mic in the clutch
'Cause it's too cold to hold, and too hot to touch
I'm like the thoroughbred searchin for cheese
You can't cut off the head
Produced by Scott Storch
The effort I'm gone put forth
I'm ma blaze a track like a human torch
H-Town's my stomping ground
A legend from the underground
You
City light, got me buggin and trife
Some die by the gun, some die by the knife
It's alright, like a game of spades I'm trump tight
Premier hit me with
or Lac
Peak you as you been there and float to them raps
Butterfly's planets for the jam 8 Tracks
From the 90-tops with the twists and plaits
Look
(JT on the track again)
As a matter fact, pulled up with extra ammo
(Samy made this shit)
Stopped by the store, me and my Loc, like get a pack
two English muffin guards from outside
They came in with steel rods in their hands
Pumperknickel told them to start picking my seeds off
One bun
Like the money says in God I trust so in God I trust
That if you touch my chips, this rod gon bust
Believe ima blast
Blinded by the lust money came too
impress niggaz who speak to God
We get jams to make a tuna melt
Held down by the BEP, we strictly, new getty
Two-fifty up in front of the mic, so what it
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