Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Heat, artist - DMX.
Date of issue: 21.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DEF JAM, RAL
Song language: English
Heat |
Uh yeah yeah |
(gunshots) |
Uh… grrrrrrrrr…uh…hot! |
Uh.arf arf arf. |
The heat is on Are y’all really ready to fly |
The heat is on Are y’all really ready to die |
The heat is oonnnnn |
Have your mother ready to cry |
The heat is on high |
The heat is on, you know |
Verse one: |
The heat is on what’s my next move |
Do I stick with the score, or get with the door |
Feds got the drop in the back of the Uhaul |
Snipers on the roof chance of getting away too small |
Tell’em like this look, it’s gonna be a shoot out |
Whoever make it out meet back at the new house good luck |
If I don’t see you again peace |
Let’s handle our business with these government police |
You and you go out the front you take the back |
You cover the first two and I’ll take the sack |
Boomer didn’t make it, neither did Stan |
Now it’s three niggaz, splitin’four hundred grand (aight) |
We all feel the loss but enjoy the profit, |
The game is the same and nothin gonna stop it Most times you make it one time you won’t |
All a nigga could really do is have a vest under the coat (come on) |
Verse two: |
Me and my two mans gave money twenty grand |
For a scam they don’t get the condo in the sand |
And chances of gettin’caught slim next to none |
Now we like three deep need that extra gun |
Bump into my man, I remember from up North |
I remember he had principles and wasn’t nothin soft |
Off with disgust just was slow and dizzy |
Everybody got it aight let’s get busy |
Run up in the bank bitch (woman screams) hit the deck |
Yo bust money, and get the keys off his neck (come here) |
We on the clock, three mintues until we finished |
Feds are on the way, but I’m tryin to see spinach |
In and out duffle bag across the back |
Extra large sports coat to cover up the mack |
Feds they attack, I spit lead out niggaz spread out |
Run up on a civilian in his car, made him get out |
Verse three: |
High speed chasin, racin through the streets |
Death’s in the air, I can taste it through the heat |
My partner’s goin’fast I don’t think he’s gonna last |
And if he don’t, I’ma hit his wife with his half |
But that’s the type of nigga I am this ain’t just rappin |
I made it, he didn’t but ain’t shit happens |
What can I do, but go on livin' |
Fleein’from the condo, I go on a ribbon |
Life goes on, that might sound wrong but heeyyy |
We all live by the rules of the game we play |
Day to day, death is a possibility |
The way I play is a fist stops you from killin’me |
It’s too hot to be in the heat cuz it’s on Too hot to be in the streets so I’m gone |
Go back to being discreet live long |
Til one day, either me or the heat is gone |
Come On! |