歌詞

The streets (hot, hot) The hood (hot, hot) The block (hot, hot) The haters (hot, hot) They mad (hot, hot) For sure (hot, hot) I know (hot, hot) I know that these niggas hot 'Cause I'm getting guap And they really not Whippin' up the pot running up a knot If you owe me some cash, give me all that you got You owe I'm in the trap with a Glock Thirty-three shots aim it at your top never miss a opp When I let it pop the whole crowd get to running like ants off A rock I'm your resident president bitch I'm barack My lil bitch, she intelligent, smart on the cock If you mad at me why would you punch on the clock? Before I punch on a nigga, I point with the Glock You a snitch You a snitch, go to court and go point at your pops Never told on a nigga, bitch, go check my docs Where I'm from nigga we catchin' bodies for props Shoot that boy in the head, make his whole body drop I'm connected, I feel like a layover I smoke a blunt to the face, get my day over Opps in the hood and they think they gon' take over But we come in all colors like Crayola It's hot in the streets and you know it You say you got heart, lil' nigga come show it He shot at me miss hit the back of the board When I shot I didn't miss he in back of my ford The streets (hot, hot) The hood (hot, hot) The block (hot, hot) The haters (hot, hot) They mad (hot, hot) For sur(hot, hot) I know (Hot, hot) The streets (hot, hot) The hood (hot, hot) The block (hot, hot) The haters (hot, hot) They mad (hot, hot) For sure (hot, hot) I know (hot, hot)
Writer(s): James Lee Baker, Darzell Triplett Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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