PROBLEM - Hot Nigga lyrics

rate me

Young Chochi be that hot nigga

Even my sister with the shit, I seen her sock niggas

D. Cole feen suck it up like popsicles

Young gunners pull a busting off of bicycles

Should’ve seen turn your block into a ghost town dick sucka

They all gone, all you talking to is ghosts now

No losses, nigga, all we know is victories

Need a pound, I had him meet me right on century

He said, “How much you got?”

I told him, “Barry bonds”

Loud in this booming shit it’s cherry bombed

Do my stuff, take a flight, I’m on American

First class, three ounces in a carryon

Bitch, I’ve been the nigga since the 5th grade

When I ran up on Big Jason with the switch blade

He scared to death, Ro-Ro, you can smell his shit stains

Not ‘cause I’m hard, I had to prove his ass was bitch, man

I’m hungry, I wonder what your bitch made

Key word, we ain’t bothered by the shift change

Driving in the public, all that NY thuggin’

My guys, Jeezy and Young make up for something foreign

Hop up in the ‘Raris then we smash out

Just see your bitch behind, he got her passed out

Five figure discount before I take a handout

Park the ‘Raris, we about to pull the Lams out

Free Miller, though, young cracking my nigga hotta

Release ain’t coming soon, I pray you see it sooner

Young neck roll in them Js, my nigga, lucky sleep

My new bitch pussy cheap, I fuck her twice a week

No, we don’t do Felice, my meals is takeout

Stash rules, put my winning in what you take out

We out here clocking Feragamos with the lace out

Bitches watching like the police on a stakeout

Yo nigga, you’s a mark like Sanchez

Cali king, I ain’t talking about no mattress

And your bitch a hoe, I treat her like a sneaker show

Had her on the kid, coming like a week ago

And chew me on some hot nigga

Like I talk to Chancey when I shot niggas

Like you seen him twirl then you drop, nigga

And we keep them 9 millies on my block, nigga

And bout to keep it on him, he don’t drop niggas

And he be walling, he some hot nigga

Tune’s known to get busy with the Glocks, nigga

Try to run down and you can catch a shot, nigga

Running through these checks till I pass out

And shorty give me neck till I pass out

I swear to God, all I do is cash out

And if you ain’t a hoe, get up out my trap house

I been selling crack since like the 5th grade

Really never made no difference what the shit made

Ja-ja told me trip them packs and how to maintain

Get that money back and spend it on the same thing

Shorty like the way that I ball out

I be getting money, time to fall out

You throw that cash till that gold was all out

Shorty love the way that I floss out

Free Greasy, though, let all of my dogs out

Momma said no pussy cats inside my dog house

That’s what got my daddy locked up in the dog pound

Free Fey, don’t know, let all of my dogs out

We gonna pull up in that hooty, like we cops on ‘em

With them 16’s we gonna put some shots on ‘em

I send the lil’ die, I send the drop on ‘em

She gonna call me up and I’m gonna send the hots on ‘em

Grinding savage, that’s what we are

Grimey shooters dressed in G stars

GS nana goes so hard but GS for my gun squad

And bitch, if there’s a problem we gonna come abroad

Shots popping out the AR

I’m with Trigga, I’m with Rosha, I’m with A Roll

Broad daylight and we gonna let them things ball

Tell that nigga free Nishio, some weight, free Breezyo

And tell my niggas ‘Shmerda teaming, yo

About a week ago, week ago

Fuck with us and then we tweeting, hoe

Run up on that nigga, get to squeezing, hoe

Everybody catching bullet holes, niggas got me on my bully, yo

I’mma run up, put that gun on ‘em

I’mma run up, go ‘thrum on ‘em

Niggas got me on that young shit

Got me on that go dumb shit

Thanks to A rapper for correcting these lyrics