All City - The Hot Joint lyrics

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, n***a, 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 n***as never starve again, its marvelous Be a heart-throb with chicks The drama sh**, y'all n***as 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, n***a with millionaire flair Are you through f**in with them lame-a** 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 f** if time sits still, I keep strivin European cars I'm drivin Top of the line sh**, six V-12's and better My people got their sh** 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 sh**, 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, s** women in the loft and show them hoes whose boss And p**y scorchin; flossin, like fight night in Vegas Ice sparklin like Sammy Davis Some praise us, others player-hate us Jealous n***as, the hell with you n***as Chorus