| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot
|
| Big Ju, nigga, the host with the Moses
|
| Find a nigga up with the dough, with the toasters
|
| Hoes say I keep it up like posters
|
| Slap the first nigga that plays me the closest
|
| Still drunk, still grabbing cloches
|
| Dark and sneaky like the rats and the roaches
|
| Careful in the way you cats approach us
|
| 'Cause playa, you more out of shape than the coach is
|
| Junkyard nigga, collect yourself
|
| You’re letting that persona effect yourself
|
| That’s not enough armor to protect yourself
|
| If we catch you coming through the projects of Delph
|
| So be smart, duke and spread the wealth
|
| We’ve got cannons here, looking for a head to melt
|
| Hit you with 8 shots 'for the first one’s felt
|
| That’s how we do it around here situation dealt
|
| It’s the Indiana Jones, funky stone city, cabrones
|
| Names ring like cellular phones
|
| Look back, fall back, catch a heart attack
|
| 'Cause there ain’t nothing in the world, the nuts will ever lack
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot
|
| I ain’t got time to be playin' games with the same jokers
|
| This wine don’t stop, baby I stay focused
|
| You’re whole gangsta’s bogus
|
| Your the type to draw a weapon, just to draw attention
|
| I pull your heart out, and leave you with your chest flaming
|
| With no special effects by Wes Craven
|
| This Psych Les reigning, tech and the mack spraying
|
| Duck, before you be on your back laying
|
| Know I’m saying? |
| You asked for war
|
| I’ma take my gloves off and smack your jaw
|
| I just got back from tour, niggas running their mouth
|
| Like their gurillas took the guns in their mouth
|
| Now their not killas they not mad at me
|
| Now they just screaming, «Don't kill me, I have a family»
|
| It’s big psych I push it down like gravity
|
| And bring the pain to your brain like a cavity
|
| It’s the Indiana Jones, funky stone city, cabrones
|
| Names ring like cellular phones
|
| Look back, fall back, catch a heart attack
|
| 'Cause there ain’t nothing in the world, the nuts will ever lack
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot
|
| Beatnuts rock on, rock on
|
| A Greg an' a, an' a, an' a, rock on, rock on
|
| Beatnuts rock on, rock on
|
| A Greg an' a, an' a, an' a, rock on, rock on
|
| Beatnuts rock on, rock on
|
| A Greg, an' a, an' a, an' a rock on, rock on
|
| Beatnuts rock on, rock on
|
| A Greg ana, ana, ana rock on, rock on
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot, hot
|
| This shit is so damn hot, hot
|
| This shit is hot, hot, hot |