| Yeah, one two.
|
| Yeah, where my nigga Jay Dee?
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| Where ya at? |
| (Yeah!)
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| (Oooh, you say you got guns, then bring that shit) what?
|
| (You say you got ones, then bring that shit
|
| cause you need a lot more ones and guns for this) what?
|
| (to get my man see we bout to spit some) HOT SHIT
|
| Yeah, one two.
|
| Bout to spit that, HOT SHIT
|
| Huh. |
| whoo! |
| Yeah.
|
| Turn it down nigga, HOT SHIT
|
| Yeah. |
| (oooh)
|
| Messenger in the Metropolis; |
| +Apocalypse+ here and +Now+
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| Niggaz know the ledge, so they don’t come near the style
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| I appear in clouds on some heaven to earth shit
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| Fake niggaz drown the deeper the verse gets
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| Deep as a skinny girl’s cunt — I surface with the purpose
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| to let y’all niggaz know the demo
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| Voice is a instrument that’s monumental
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| You couldn’t fuck with the style if you was a nympho
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| Raised in the temple of Chi, taught to look into the eye
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| I identify with dobbs and weaves, and niggaz makin moves
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| that bob and weave, and niggaz with jobs on the side sell weed
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| I feed off the hunger that a bum or abandoned child gets
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| freaky, like Marv Albert, in outfits, by Chaka Givens
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| I lecture how I got God but don’t got religion
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| Got a clip for these niggaz on the net, sellin my shit
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| Let’s just say you Ramone and I’m Spit
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| In a habitat of Cadillacs and battle raps
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| and people that travel at the speed of need
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| Never agree with the ways of the world
|
| Cats say anything — like they say to they girl
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| How you bringin it when you sit indian style?
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| Niggaz know me as Com it’s time hear me go wild
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| with HOT SHIT, yeah.
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| HOT SHIT, yeah, one two.
|
| Came to bring it boy
|
| (You say you got guns, then bring that shit
|
| You say you got ones, then bring that shit
|
| cause you need a lot more ones and guns for this) what?
|
| (to get my man see we bout to spit some) HOT SHIT
|
| What? |
| No doubt. |
| HOT SHIT!
|
| Old men see visions young men dream dreams
|
| I rock the planet — recognize — I’m the C.R.E.A.M.
|
| Com Rules Everything and everything is How yo’man pullin yo’weight — he ain’t carryin his
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| Scary the biz is like The Blair Witch Project
|
| Experiment in rooms on some bare bitch project
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| State senators, life twirls, most sell out
|
| — like a dread with a white girl
|
| You want me to cypher with you and the Gods?
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| I just did a show — I’m pursuin these broads
|
| Everyone I ain’t tryin to fuck
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| Wanna feel female presence and conversation a touch
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| You’ll get split like a date that’s dutch scuffed and scraped up Taped up for tryin to say what — ever you was about to say
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| You rap like a nigga that’s about to spray
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| Get a mouth shot, for openin your mouth to say
|
| feel my heat in the night — it leaves you without the day
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| What I write is a passage for niggaz to travel through
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| Before defeatin me — Joe, you better battle you
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| I tap into my own zone like it’s my home phone
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| Turn the cell off and let my dome roam
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| Shame I gotta do white labels to keep my life stable
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| I write fatal bringin niggaz to life
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| A wise man came in the thick of the night
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| He said BRING THAT SHIT when you pick up the mic
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| I said, What shit?
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| He said HOT SHIT, hot shit, hot shit
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| (You say you got guns, then bring that shit) uhhh
|
| (You say you got ones, then bring that shit
|
| cause you need a lot more ones and guns for this) uhh
|
| (me and my man, see we known to spit this) HOT SHIT
|
| Hot shit, yeah, yeah, uhh
|
| What we spit Jay? |
| (Throw it down nigga)
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| HOT SHIT, uh, yeah, uh, c’mon, yeah (keep it goin)
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| HOT SHIT.
|
| HOT SHIT.
|
| HOT SHIT. |
| yeah, boy (keep it goin)
|
| HOT SHIT. |
| out
|
| HOT. |