Hot

[Chorus: Rosco P. Coldchain] + (Pharrell) Hey 'Rell this beat is.. (HOT!.. HOT!) You know I keep a chrome, under seats and in the home Without speaking you'll give me your chain I'm Da Vinci, don't make me draw ya pain They call me 'Sco, short for Rosco P. Coldchain Hey 'Rell this beat is.. (HOT!) [Verse 1: Pusha T] It go hot waist - Desert taste Four pounds of metal, triangle face Hesi-tate - never, I'll put hole in whoever Don't make Push' Russian Roulette ya Gamble wit ya life Change came from cocaine I've measured White was the treasure, comfort was the steel I pedal to the corner like a child on a big wheel Flow more sicker, so much shake in the street They measure my weight in Richter Make no mistake, I rhyme for the public But still I push weight that make the ghetto's quake By all means I've seen I've lived By 22 years old, 50 thousand dollar vehicles I rimmed {*scratches*} My dreams start over the stove I ran over the globe and back again [Chorus] [Verse 2: Rosco P. Coldchain] Y'all niggas really ain't got a pot to piss in Or a window to throw it out of I'm filthy but you better believe I got over a stack in my pocket though Iceberg on the seams of jeans? no! I'm a Dickies and Timbs man, I'm not no Benz man Delta '88 on rims man, wit mirror tint And four of my most militant men whose trying to stay sucka free That's why they hang around me, cause I ain't print Left em for diamonds and pearls, I'm not no bitch I choose a mack before that attached 100 shot clip I scare the shit outta bank tellers so I can become rich That's how I make my living, I give em encouragement, "you're doing great!" Keep chillin while I'm flashing the glock in their face I show em I can be appreciative, I tell em thanks for giving I'm sinning! But the Lord knows I have three children Now I'm somewhere in +Utah+ relaxing to +Jazz+ with a broad Quarter mill in a stash, avoiding the law from far! [Chorus] [Verse 3: Boobonic] I'm starting wit the man in the mirror Mask need to make that change That real doe, that point something paper Like a 4.6 on a Range, new shit {*scratches*} Look 'Bonic really been through shit Pay close attention when Boo' spit Uh, lack 'a that'll get you hit And don't care who you'll come back through with, been around Nigga front like he want his car spun around Window drop block pop spin around Niggaz stand up looking for 'em sit em down And ya see em laid out That's why when I was young I stayed out And plus being pussy ya niggaz is played out I made means to get that cream We all playas all they say is how you get that team [Chorus]