All City - The Hot Joint (Clark Kent Remix)

Chorus/Intro: Woman 
`So hot.. I`m burnin up` (4X) 
[J. Mega] 
Who got ya? With flows like aqua 
Mega ?? sit the imposter, bound to prosper 
Hits we got a lot-a, sippin on straight vodka, puffin chaka 
Lust to conquer, nigga, I`ma monster 
Call me Ontra for short, I`m confident 
As far as this, nice no arguments 
Rock garments, raw contents 
Its obvious, we about to cop cars from this 
Rock continents, money over margin and the consequence 
Niggas never starve again, its marvelous 
Be a heart-throb with chicks 
The drama shit, y`all niggas hate 
But I`ma do my thing, to beat fate 
Ten-room joint, leave your name at the gate 
Gold brunches at one G a plate 
Chorus 
[Greg Valentine] 
Yo; I`m on the rise like hot air 
It don`t stop there, so popular I glare 
Hoes stop to stare, they volunteer 
To come out of their underwear 
For this debonair, nigga with millionaire flair 
Are you through fuckin with them lame-ass queers? 
Ya need for a true baller severe 
In my wardrobe, there`s Cartier 
Pierre Cardans on my Cardigans 
Black sedans, in the summer the sports coupe 
Master plan for a brother to score loot 
Goin all out pursuit for a house on the hill 
I conjure up a thousand ways to make me a mill 
I don`t give a fuck if time sits still, I keep strivin 
European cars I`m drivin 
Top of the line shit, six V-12`s and better 
My people got their shit together, lets get this cheddar 
Chorus 
[J. Mega] 
B-K baby, all the way baby 
Mixin Hennesey with the Alizay baby 
G.V. baby, Larry, baby. Don`t swing the air thing, gravy, baby 
For instincts, every joint gainin interest 
From the entrance, we came different 
Now every whip come with gloss, fully tinted 
Went from wishes to paid expenses 
Six digits, the way we roll tremendous 
Sip Guinness, Brooklyn dukes, no gimics 
Just vintage rap shit, beyond the limits 
Lips splendid, money comes I spend it 
You want in, dukes? I got you in a minute 
[Greg Valentine] 
Yo, yo; we some slick talkin, New Yorkin 
Quick walkin, chicks hawkin, pumpin our`s in they walkmans 
Often, sex women in the loft and show them hoes whose boss 
And pussy scorchin; flossin, like fight night in Vegas 
Ice sparklin like Sammy Davis 
Some praise us, others player-hate us 
Jealous niggas, the hell with you niggas 
Chorus