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Текст (слова) песни: Clipse - Hot Damn



[Intro: Pharrell Williams]
Now they saying we`re too hot
New verses please, c`mon

[Chorus - 1: Pharrell Williams] (Malice)
Hot damn! it`s a new day!
Hot damn! but them boys want the (RPC: money man)
Hooooouuuuuu (uh huh)
Hooooouuuuuu (of corse)
Hooooouuuuuu (`fore you say what you say)
Hot damn!

[Verse: Malice]
My how the boys roam
From roaming, loc, and come home
To homes of his own
No catching up he`s in a whole `nother zone
Still true to his roots, stay close to the chrome
Haters stay clear of him, y`all stand cheer for him
Got up out the game and overcame, let`s hear it for him
Keep a new toy so I wonder how could
I not enjoy life I`m reliving my childhood
Big chain monsta, whip game bonkas
Monster truck remind him of Tonka
Diamond F color, plush gold still gutter
My dealer`s in the mills motherfuck` and I ain`t studder
Bitter sweet, my life`s a musical
From holding those to Bose gold, the Lord`s beautiful
Before him I`m too shamed to show my face
But shits so mean I can`t help but to fall from grace, motherfucker

[Chorus - 2: Pharrell Williams]
Hot damn! it`s a new day!
Hot damn! but them boys want the (RPC: money man)

[Verse: Ab Liva]
Hot - damn, when the white hit the pan it
Twists and it tumbles it, flips and the fumbles
I - mix it like Gumbo; I - pitch it so subtle
I - keep hustlers puzzled, Feds I got em wondering (wondering)
`What Happened To That boy`
Six maneuver, how`d I slip into that toy
Is it the pimp, the crook, the hustling thing
The man, the music that making a king
I`m simply building my Ming
A million men marchin like condom(?)
I`m the King Kong, my verse making the world sing
My heart`s on the sleeve for
Your face is just like mine
Peeking from bars hoping the sun shines on em
But you still got to watch the phonies
Watch your homies, we {*gun shots*} got you homie!

[Chorus - 2]

[Verse: Pusha T]
Uhh! handle the rock like nonr other
Grits over the stove, head under the cupboard
In the kitchen till the fume make me feel smothered
The way it melt fiends can`t believe it`s not butter
The way it melt he won`t cop from none other
The he who holds O`s like Krispy Kreme`s oven
Or easy bake, pink divies make
The presidential should look like strawberry shortcake, P!

[Pharrell Williams]
Imagine that Rolls Royce crashed in, me unscratched in
That millionaire boys club fashion
Uh, you niggas is clones
I hand out styles like ice cream cones, the fuck outta here

[Verse: Pusha T]
That`s Pha-real my gats is real
The SL 5 is lookin like the Batmobile
Chrome lids with the matching wheels
Uh, both chains probably match ya deal
Y`all dudes is an act fa real, Pusha

[Chorus - 2]

[Verse: Roscoe P. Coldchain]
Neither the sun or death can be looked at
That`s what an OG told me
That was the exact moment I decided to take a pact
And if you owe me and if I decided to take it back
It wasn`t nicely expect Rosco to put you back, in place
I`m what you call a destructive warpath
It`ll be a shell shower in today`s forecast
You a gangsta? I can`t tell
You diamonds don`t glimmer when the light hit it
Those jewels aren`t genuwine, cause if they was I`m nice wit it
I woulda` been took that
That skinny stack in your pocket I woulda been shook that
In this world you gotta watch it, I`m hear to warn ya
Cats turned informant, over snow wrapped in wax
My son`s home crying, don`t give me no slack
Just put the motherfucking money in the bag
These words are being said as I hide behind glove and mask
Coat change not your typical crook
I`m being watched look at the camera lens in the bush

[Chorus - 2]

 

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