| A: I’m hungry, man
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| L: Hey, it’s the DJ
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| A: This is the DJ?
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| L: Yeah
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| J: vibrate, Haile Selassie, y’know … this is 2011, Caribbean magazine,
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| maybe you know him
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| A: Aaah, that’s the guy
|
| J: Yes
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| M: We wanna hear you live, talk- let’s hear somethin'
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| J: Come on, come on, come on
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| I’m steppin' in hotter this year
|
| I’m steppin' in hotter this year
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| I’m steppin' in hotter this year
|
| I’m steppin' in hotter this year
|
| Yeah, it’s me
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| Yo, these queers tryna rock me to sleep (Never)
|
| But the show got a line
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| Around five blocks, read it and weep (Bitch)
|
| Shit, I’m unexplained like a lot of things (What?)
|
| If I see it and I want it, I’ma get it baby, ba-da-bing (Bing)
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| No doors on my jeep (Nope)
|
| That’s the case, I had to jump out
|
| And Stacey Dash on police (Yo, I’m out! Yo, I’m out!)
|
| I shoulda tried out for the Chiefs, damn (Uh)
|
| A Hall of Famer at the least, damn (Uh)
|
| This train won’t stop, so my chick won’t top (Nope)
|
| I’m bouncing down the block in that '62 drop ('62 drop)
|
| I’m so sincere, man, I shit you not (I shit you not)
|
| I’m qualified to speak for my attorneys
|
| Address the jury in a Shaq jersey (The black one)
|
| This is one night only, Dragon vs. Phoenix (Yeah)
|
| I think I’ll fuck around and throw Aladdin on the remix (Yeah)
|
| You can never score a point against my defense (No)
|
| For many years, my mind been going off the deep end
|
| Uh, like Tom Hanks with the soccer ball
|
| You get turned into a taco (Mmm)
|
| Uh, they thought Body was Bruce Willis in Morocco
|
| (Hey, Bruce Willis? Bruce Willis?)
|
| Like I said, they’ll never find you in a pot roast (Never)
|
| Uh, they’ll never find you in a pot roast
|
| I’m steppin' in hotter this year
|
| I’m steppin' in hotter this year
|
| When the sun don’t shine no more
|
| And the rain keep bubbling down
|
| And it can’t exsolve the pain
|
| Baby, you can call my name
|
| When the sun don’t shine no more
|
| And the rain keep bubbling down
|
| And it can’t exsolve the pain
|
| Baby, you can call my name
|
| Yo, yeah, yo
|
| Suicidal doors, bipolar necklaces
|
| Army suit matchin' this coupe 'cause we perfectionists
|
| Three’s basic, forty-five colors on the Coogi
|
| You see me but you never knew me, somethin' like a failed father
|
| Up in Saks bustin' down racks
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| We out in Bal Harbour, certified
|
| Looking like I’m powerin' appliance
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| Beefin' over money that can sour an alliance
|
| Infused EVOO, sitting in the cabinet
|
| Used to hold the work under the whip using a magnet
|
| Outfits, controversial like I’m Russell Westbrook
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| Code name Lorraine, 'bout to hit you with a left hook
|
| And fuck these old niggas actin' like they made us
|
| We superceded everything they did so now they hate us
|
| Take a look at my life, 'cause I’m historical
|
| You the type to compliment a Rolly at the urinal
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| I’m the type to look up continents and then explore a few
|
| Splash Disaronno in the coffee
|
| This watch is costly, I tell the time with your salary
|
| Every Gucci hoodie that’s out, you couldn’t style with me
|
| Creamed spinach, vintage, tinted but still shine through
|
| Easy 'fore we up in the spot, I might blind you
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| Shit
|
| When the sun don’t shine no more
|
| And the rain keep bubbling down
|
| And it can’t exsolve the pain
|
| Baby, you can call my name
|
| When the sun don’t shine no more
|
| And the rain keep bubbling down
|
| And it can’t exsolve the pain
|
| Baby, you can call my name
|
| Baby, you can call my name
|
| That’s how you perform under pressure
|
| Just cameras and stuff like that, and this man just went in there and knocked
|
| it out!
|
| Rastafari, mon, Haile Selassie, mon |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hot Pepper, artist - Action Bronson. Album song Blue Chips 7000, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп