Music Video

Heat Check (feat. Sunny4)
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Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Paul Espinosa
Paul Espinosa
Songwriter
Taylor Hill
Taylor Hill
Songwriter
Mia Victoria Espinosa
Mia Victoria Espinosa
Songwriter

Lyrics

Yea Aye I say it's motherfucking Batchi Nigga Look This a mothafuckin heat check I just knocked two bitches back to back I'm think I'm keith sweat Niggas think they hard but they some mothafuckin rejects Barkin online still ain't seen em in the streets yet And these busters want some respect Man fuck up out my face nigga You ain't have to hustle like batchi had to hustle fell asleep all in the Kia then I woke up in wraith nigga Hate niggas I'm with gorillas killas and apes nigga Call my glock Picasso this 40 just love to paint niggas Spank Niggas Next nigga try me bet he get vaped nigga Smoke em like some cookies I turn ya boy to a eighth nigga Fake niggas Ain't nuthin like em I can't relate nigga Trappin out the onta I'm in the hood getting cake nigga Cake nigga I'm getting money until I can't Nigga I just left the show with a bag let's hit the bank nigga Cuz real shit I need alotta dough Pimp Nigga suga free I need a lot of hoes I'm in the hood w the cholos tell em vamonos real hood baby I don't ever sip no adios I'm sippin Modelo riding w quetes I feel like lil joker I'm riding round w them eses Big ol titty bitty beside me drinking my leche I'm the hardest young hitta out my mothafuckin sete I'm a beast ima dog ima a mothafuckin lunatic Riding through the city smokin tooka bumping ludacris All my brothas really from the gutter on some sewer shit Fuck I need a shooter for I'm riding with that ruger birch And my bitch is bad Booty fat on some stupid shit And her pussy wet as fuck guess I'm on that scuba shit Deep sea diving pimpin I ain't tripping if I lose a bitch I just got to hit her once send her home on some Uber shit This a mothafuckin heat check I just knocked two bitches back to back I'm think I'm kieth sweat Niggas think they hard but they some mothafuckin rejects Barkin online still ain't seen em in the streets yet And these buster's want some respect Man fuck up out my face nigga Man fuck up out my face nigga You ain't have to hustle like batchi had to hustle fell asleep all in the Kia then I woke up in wraith nigga My momma weight that sack out We getting money Just make sure the money right Gang Laughing to the bank On God But I ain't never been the funny type I been gettin' in the trap all my life Got scars and earned stripes, re-up and took flights With nice views medium steak and aged wine Turned winter into summer Pick a place, a day, and time This a motherfucking heat check Like I got paid by Pat riley Real hood baby want Trina to fuck Kylie I'm wildin'n out of town and mean business in my set Put the hustler in and hustla when I'm running up a check I coach game Sunny Popovich Belichick I'm a champ I'm a solider I'm a motherfuckin' loc If I got it and I Love you we ain't never going broke Cuhz it's gang gang fuck what you claim if you tripping My dog food get chewed I'm so finessed Two step with the nina Both hands throwing west Mr.hustla from the bottom Every dollar gonna stretch And its the way I'm living It's the reason I flex And Fuck a bish give her daddy dick Then I Collect I'm going back to back to back like Kobe and Shaq With them hits from the county While I ride with the mac So when you come to my hood you better watch yo back And when I come to your hood I'ma front you a sack So we grind and get away like the cash like a caper Cuhz it's ain't about a set trip It's all about the paper Gang
Writer(s): Paul Espinosa Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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