Page type: lyric reference
Artist: The Beatnuts
Canonical path: /the-beatnuts-feat-greg-nice/hot-feat-greg-nice
Related lyric paths: 0
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Lyric guide
Hot (feat. Greg Nice)
Read Hot (feat. Greg Nice) lyrics by The Beatnuts on LyroVerse, with linked artist context and related song paths.
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Curated by Ethan Walker
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Lyrics
Hot (feat. Greg Nice)
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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
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