Hot Car Freestyle

Lyrics

[Intro: Fredo Santana & Boss Moo] Yeah DJ Kenn, turn up man Drop that shit man You know how we comin' man Squad squad Squad shit no qua shit Gang shit no lang shit [Verse 1: Tadoe] What I say? I can put them bitches on the plane or take the road Nigga you ain't even really gang 'cause you fuckin' told And you act like you ain't even trick, boy you fuckin' bold And I took yo ass on a hit, and you fuckin' froze I done touched a whole honeybun and I ain't touch the work Why the fuck you buy that gun if you ain't bust it first? Niggas really hoes in the field we'll fuckin' skirt I'ma sold you ass hit drink, you a fuckin' jerk 58 hunnid for the pint and it nun to us Told the bitch to hop on this plane, we gon' run it up And she gave a young nigga brain for a tummy tuck Blue bumma gang be the gang, I'm the runner up Pay them gangs with this damn gang, I lump 'em up Hallows hit his motherfuckin' brain, I stomp him up Cocker say she wanna hold the whole thing, finna numb her up And I made a hunnid off them things, finna thumb it up Thot hoe I hit already, bitch sum it up Bitch, I'm in Knoxville It gives a young nigga chills how that guap feel Standing ten toes, cold hearted in this hot field In the stu smokin' glue off a waxyle You think that he solid, but he fu, he is not real I get in that jam I'ma blam, I will not squeal High as hell, slide do a drill off a ox pill Damn Tadoe, they ain't ready yet I did sold two day, I just got a Percocet This bitch say she love me and ain't even met me yet Finna get the top, sloppiana, yeah, heavy neck Aye, I'm that nigga hoe I done fucked her and her friend, I'm a gigolo And they break a nigga heavy checks but I ain't pimpin' tho And I bought the lil bitch a bag but I ain't simpin' tho Go go bitch, I need a mata My uber behind the wheel, we'll slide if we had to Santana got the Drac, we'll up it, it go grata gratara gratara gragra (boom boom bang) [Verse 2: Boss Gottie] DJ Kenn All Or Nothing, bitch I'm goin' in Boolin' with the gang, my brothers bitch we all kin All type of Glock & chops, it's gon make a movie clips Mixin' drink, percs and xans, it got me high as shit Still posted on the Front, we ain't duckin' shit Still been down yo blocks, yeah we lurkin' bitch Catch you, we gon murk you bitch You know we on that gang shit and that squad shit, free murkin' bitch Through the city in them hot cars We ain't worried about tell, we gon' scratch and tell 'em bye bye That shit you smokin', that ain't zaza If you want it bitch, I got, but it gon' cost you a lotta Groupie hoes givin' matta No you can't hang, you ain't gang, you ain't squad squad Free poppa bitch that's gang boy Pop out with that Drac, no hesitate he gon' bang boy [Verse 3: Boss Moo] I been sled on the opps, had to hit them goofies up (They deadass) Smokin' new pack, no this ain't that fuckin' Duck (He dead) And them niggas think it's sweet, I'ma hit em up (Dummies) Call a ambulance, now they gotta pick em up (Pick em up) Do the race, flame them new niggas up (Yoon) I'm in the 'Raq, what the fuck y'all thought it was (Chiraq) We ridin' 'cats, what the fuck y'all think we in (Yoon) I caught him lackin' had to get that goofy tinned (Brrp) [Verse 4: RB Santanna] Aye, I'm about that action and you know that (You know that) But bitch I'm here to talk about my Skrilla like I'm Kodak (Aye) Pull up in that black & yellow Lamb truck like Bojak (Like Bojak) He ain't rich enough, he can't afford to buy his hoe back Aye, that nigga broke as fuck, you know that I'm the young goat but you know I keep a big gat I don't like McDonald's but you know I keep a big Mac I don't do no talkin', I don't really do no chit-chat Aye, he ain't in the churches, he ain't with that 50 in this Glock that bitch go brr-brrap Draco with me, aye keep a nick-nack You make any wrong move folks put your shit back Aye, bitch I'm in this track, call this a dispatch Aye, designer back to back, this shit mix match Aye, M-O-N-E-Y, I'm gon' get that Aye, niggas broke as fuck, that I ain't with that I been gettin' money since shorty chasin' cheder If you tweak with gang, we gon' put him on a sweater We don't give no fuck, we slid in any type of weather Hallows tips ain't hit him, they gon' get his ass together You ain't really like that, nigga you soft just like some feathers All gold AP and that bitch sound like treasure They can't get no money, cause we applyin' too much pressure I might get the sack then go take a flight to LA [Outro: RB Santanna] Aye, gang gang gang gang Your bitch on my dick, she say what's the gang gang Bitch she with the fuck and that pistol go bang bang We'll take his ice and take his fuckin' chain chain Gang gang