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lirik lagu king hot - tell em that

[verse 1: king hot]
got my hands on the game like a bike bar
i ain’t ran from nothin’ but a cop car
i got the syrup in my blood, it’s a dirty p-ss
i got a b-tch in bel air like i’m will smith
your b-tch wanna choose, she wanna really ball
she good on the head like tylenol
bay boy ’til i die, i’m still stewy
my skittles on my feet, i don’t wear gucci
[???] on my lap, no peace time
we all tryin’ to eat like the lunch line
tryin’ to start smoke, that’s suicidal
the boy with the action, that’s on the bible
they ask me what i want, i tell ’em “all this”
i spent ten bands up at saks 5th
all about the grants and the benjamins
that’s fox fur on the strings of my timberland’s

[chorus: king hot]
the kid out here winnin’, tell them hoes that
the kid out here lit, tell them hoes that
the kid out here stylin’, tell them hoes that
the kid out here strapped, tell them hoes that
uhh, tell them hoes that
tell them hoes that
tell them hoes that
tell them hoes that

[verse 2: nef the pharaoh]
foreign exchange student, european cl-ssy
never heard of speed limits, we gonna do the dashy
i should bring the hoes, got it bad for me
closet full of j’s look like a factory
i was sick wid it ‘fore i signed the dotted line
i’m a ticking time bomb, i will break a [???]
i know italians and i f-ck with taliban
the sh-t in cali bomb, i be doin’ what i want
i don’t f-ck with snitches, you can run and tell them hoes that
got a couple k!llers on life and they want that
alledgedly i walk around with [???] that’s a known fact
[???] little n-gg-s and they probly where your home at
it started as a dream now it’s reality
get the green and i did, i cop the celery
i see a bunch of commas on my salary
boy i swear my na-na would be proud of me

- lirik lagu king hot

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