Lyrics:
Girls drool on me like a diamond
I go to the party. I hip, I hop the spot
I dunno what it is, but the girls get hot
Perspirin' like they're on fire
dizzy
Niggas on the block know Mase motto
One thing about Harlem World, we all got dough
98' Tahoe, Tommy and a Roscoe
Case I'm every chased by
dizzy
Niggas on the block know Mase motto
One thing about Harlem World, we all got dough
98' Tahoe, Tommy and a Roscoe
Case I'm every chased by
hot as a sauna
Word is bond cause Sul the steps be on
The true original man sunset to rise with foes and those you probably
Recognized on the block
I
on the grind spot
We got the trumps and dimes hot and here's where the line stops
And I can't keep my nine in the bushes, Spice
Cause them jealous niggas
shine with jewelry and kicks
Bad bitches and chicks, stop hatin each other
Motherfuckers this is the "Jealousy" remix (Hot 97, remix!)
Jealousy,
a hundred, shoot a hundred (believe that daddy)
This my block, I run it (believe that daddy)
Got them 20s on ya ride (believe that daddy)
Croc or gator
on the mic
The Butter P honey got the sugar, got the spice
Roll the L's tight, keep the rhymes right
Yo, I just made this motherf- up last night
And, uh,
and raised on the stead block, braids no dreadlocks
Married to the hood, me and Scenic Woods wedlock
Acres Homes my home, I'm a Northside veteran
Repping
flowers Mave made this fire beat
And if you wanna bring the beef, we'll bring the spices and the heat
I believe in education, when you broke it's worth
shoulder
Cuz it’s not safe
Burning hot plate
On ice
Praying that he doesn’t get stopped
On the block by the cops
They be coming for his life
Look
12:45
Yo, Big Shaq, the one and only
Man's not hot, never hot
Skrrat, skidi-kat-kat
Boom
Two plus two is four, minus one that's three, quick maths
entice
Know that I'ma show up on your step, I don’t type
Keep my hoes together, no splice
Got a couple hot girls with me no spice
Label with the Off-White
the block hot, shit got super hot, ayy
Give me my respect, give me my respect
I just took it left like I'm ambidex'
Bitch, I move through London with
Bitch I love spice talking and I talk hot These forty's shells will knock a nigga out his drop Top
I can't even look you niggas up on my laptop I
my partners deceased
Been a hot boy, this the demon in me
Back to the block, I got used to the streets
Pull up, pull out, cut loose, run through
me
I feel burdened by the truth
That we're programmed to lose
And it's killing the mood
Heed that niggling feeling
You know something is off
Stop
Gran Finale
Yeah
Illa
Brooklyn
Yeah
I be talking that raw
From the the the block
I'm the the the king of
The the the hot
And I might cruise by in
is
Her specialty, after all hands come up
One by one "Oh my god, Rihmeek, "
Nicki groans exaggeratedly, invoking Meek's
Middle name for effect "Every
everything is fine
312 and 213 area codes
So now girls don't trip
'Cause it's summertime
Drop top in the summertime
And I'm rolling through the block
don't go get caught
Futurama bender on yo block
She just want the pipe
But I'm too nice
I am yo chef got hella spice
Hit em with the lean bean mean
Woo, remix, uh
I'm just in my zone
They be lying now, they calling me Ritchie like Lionel
I used to buy and sell, I was on the strip getting
it
You gonna be addicted when a hot nigga get it
Girl don't hide it from me
You should be the type to provide it to me (This is the remix)
And let
God for the game
My TV screen off the chain
My bitch, she off the chain
I came from the grain
The sidewalk chalk
The block stay hot
Paranoid,
.jpg/300px-Hot_Hot_Heat_(1659559709).jpg "Hot Hot Heat")
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