歌曲 | Hot to Def |
歌手 | Keith Murray |
专辑 | Enigma |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Bonner, Fyffe, Jones ... | |
Intro:1000 degrees hot | |
Continuously, yeah | |
Who's that crazy ******* | |
Drinkin crazy ******* out of crazy straw | |
Kicking crazy hardcore, crazy metaphors | |
When i rap competitions perform disappearing acts | |
*******s ask why the squad be on it like that | |
Cause we stay with the lethal dosage | |
Click on the mic mc's run like roaches | |
Truthfully i think them *******s is gay | |
Always havin a party with no dj | |
I had to hold my head in di*******elief | |
Them short winded *******s tried to smoke the chief | |
Of the frontal leaf keith | |
Knowing damn well they can't win | |
My style is rougher than army gear and old timb | |
The east coast say ill | |
The west coast say ill | |
My squad is def they don't give a ******* | |
They say kill | |
Cause we can all sing together | |
That's why i pack the black gat up under the leather | |
And keep it hot | |
Chorus: (3x) | |
It's 96 degrees in the shade | |
1000 degrees | |
I got nuts like almond joy, like mounds you don't | |
I say and do a lot of things some fake rappers won't | |
Now i'm the show shocker plus the show stopper | |
Down with makin g's and all the block clockers | |
Down with l.o.d., the motherf-ing cop droppers | |
Down with def squad flying through your hood in choppers | |
Yeah we done been in more *******t in the past year | |
Than the bloods and crips care to hear | |
Ear to ear, glock to hand, mic to mouth, resuscitation | |
Psychosomatic creation | |
Killing off the nation of perpetration | |
Player hating, bringin confrontation | |
I'll shoot your hips up and make you bogle like jamaicans | |
I'm doing my thing, if you feel me do your thing | |
Y'all *******s know my style | |
I smoke ******* on trains and planes | |
Murderous material submerging from my brain | |
Chumpin top dollar *******s into small change | |
And make it hot | |
Chorus | |
I'm the un*******witable incredible lyrical individual | |
Boy your not suitable | |
I work wonders over the beats | |
It's no wonder phony mc's pee the bed | |
Relax your head | |
Accomodations and compliments of the infrared | |
Theoretically, hypothetically, practically | |
Actually ain't nobody ******* with me | |
I'll sell your stupid ass the brooklyn bridge | |
If you think an mc in your camp can ******* with the kid | |
I want the sun not to *******ne for six months, to see who fronts | |
While the squad light up the sky with blunts | |
If you catch a nigger dreaming | |
Thinking he can ******* with my enterprise | |
Wake him up, smack em, make him apologize | |
Cause we be on their lemonade type *******t | |
I ain't no ******* but you derelicts can suck my ******* | |
I make it hot | |
Chorus (2x) |
zuo ci : Bonner, Fyffe, Jones ... | |
Intro: 1000 degrees hot | |
Continuously, yeah | |
Who' s that crazy | |
Drinkin crazy out of crazy straw | |
Kicking crazy hardcore, crazy metaphors | |
When i rap competitions perform disappearing acts | |
s ask why the squad be on it like that | |
Cause we stay with the lethal dosage | |
Click on the mic mc' s run like roaches | |
Truthfully i think them s is gay | |
Always havin a party with no dj | |
I had to hold my head in di elief | |
Them short winded s tried to smoke the chief | |
Of the frontal leaf keith | |
Knowing damn well they can' t win | |
My style is rougher than army gear and old timb | |
The east coast say ill | |
The west coast say ill | |
My squad is def they don' t give a | |
They say kill | |
Cause we can all sing together | |
That' s why i pack the black gat up under the leather | |
And keep it hot | |
Chorus: 3x | |
It' s 96 degrees in the shade | |
1000 degrees | |
I got nuts like almond joy, like mounds you don' t | |
I say and do a lot of things some fake rappers won' t | |
Now i' m the show shocker plus the show stopper | |
Down with makin g' s and all the block clockers | |
Down with l. o. d., the motherfing cop droppers | |
Down with def squad flying through your hood in choppers | |
Yeah we done been in more t in the past year | |
Than the bloods and crips care to hear | |
Ear to ear, glock to hand, mic to mouth, resuscitation | |
Psychosomatic creation | |
Killing off the nation of perpetration | |
Player hating, bringin confrontation | |
I' ll shoot your hips up and make you bogle like jamaicans | |
I' m doing my thing, if you feel me do your thing | |
Y' all s know my style | |
I smoke on trains and planes | |
Murderous material submerging from my brain | |
Chumpin top dollar s into small change | |
And make it hot | |
Chorus | |
I' m the un witable incredible lyrical individual | |
Boy your not suitable | |
I work wonders over the beats | |
It' s no wonder phony mc' s pee the bed | |
Relax your head | |
Accomodations and compliments of the infrared | |
Theoretically, hypothetically, practically | |
Actually ain' t nobody with me | |
I' ll sell your stupid ass the brooklyn bridge | |
If you think an mc in your camp can with the kid | |
I want the sun not to ne for six months, to see who fronts | |
While the squad light up the sky with blunts | |
If you catch a nigger dreaming | |
Thinking he can with my enterprise | |
Wake him up, smack em, make him apologize | |
Cause we be on their lemonade type t | |
I ain' t no but you derelicts can suck my | |
I make it hot | |
Chorus 2x |
zuò cí : Bonner, Fyffe, Jones ... | |
Intro: 1000 degrees hot | |
Continuously, yeah | |
Who' s that crazy | |
Drinkin crazy out of crazy straw | |
Kicking crazy hardcore, crazy metaphors | |
When i rap competitions perform disappearing acts | |
s ask why the squad be on it like that | |
Cause we stay with the lethal dosage | |
Click on the mic mc' s run like roaches | |
Truthfully i think them s is gay | |
Always havin a party with no dj | |
I had to hold my head in di elief | |
Them short winded s tried to smoke the chief | |
Of the frontal leaf keith | |
Knowing damn well they can' t win | |
My style is rougher than army gear and old timb | |
The east coast say ill | |
The west coast say ill | |
My squad is def they don' t give a | |
They say kill | |
Cause we can all sing together | |
That' s why i pack the black gat up under the leather | |
And keep it hot | |
Chorus: 3x | |
It' s 96 degrees in the shade | |
1000 degrees | |
I got nuts like almond joy, like mounds you don' t | |
I say and do a lot of things some fake rappers won' t | |
Now i' m the show shocker plus the show stopper | |
Down with makin g' s and all the block clockers | |
Down with l. o. d., the motherfing cop droppers | |
Down with def squad flying through your hood in choppers | |
Yeah we done been in more t in the past year | |
Than the bloods and crips care to hear | |
Ear to ear, glock to hand, mic to mouth, resuscitation | |
Psychosomatic creation | |
Killing off the nation of perpetration | |
Player hating, bringin confrontation | |
I' ll shoot your hips up and make you bogle like jamaicans | |
I' m doing my thing, if you feel me do your thing | |
Y' all s know my style | |
I smoke on trains and planes | |
Murderous material submerging from my brain | |
Chumpin top dollar s into small change | |
And make it hot | |
Chorus | |
I' m the un witable incredible lyrical individual | |
Boy your not suitable | |
I work wonders over the beats | |
It' s no wonder phony mc' s pee the bed | |
Relax your head | |
Accomodations and compliments of the infrared | |
Theoretically, hypothetically, practically | |
Actually ain' t nobody with me | |
I' ll sell your stupid ass the brooklyn bridge | |
If you think an mc in your camp can with the kid | |
I want the sun not to ne for six months, to see who fronts | |
While the squad light up the sky with blunts | |
If you catch a nigger dreaming | |
Thinking he can with my enterprise | |
Wake him up, smack em, make him apologize | |
Cause we be on their lemonade type t | |
I ain' t no but you derelicts can suck my | |
I make it hot | |
Chorus 2x |