Bizzy Banks - City Hot Pt. 2 lyrics

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Bizzy Banks - City Hot Pt. 2 lyrics

[Intro: Leeky G Bando] Yoz, what you telling me? Uh, when I get in my freestyle mode (G Bando Jordan) Uh, like When I'm feelin' my mixtape mode [Pre-Chorus: Leeky G Bando] Know them Structure ni**as got the city hot, uh Pull up on any block, uh, like And we still got them GLAs switching lanes They ain't believe when I say that we up next, uh Know them ni**as upset, uh, like 'Cause my ni**as came to take over the game [Chorus: Bizzy Banks] I make the city hot in this b*tch, uh We keep the pistol co*ked We on any block in this b*tch We make 'em Milly Rock in this sh*t We let the semi pop, Luv gon' send a shot If he moving Wock' in this b*tch .357, baby, don't trip Oh, he trust demon? No, he won't miss I tell my shooters start sliding (Sliding) If they multiplying, then we gon' divide 'em Take out they plug, the one who providing Big dog, I do the deciding That ni**a pussy, he need some guidance, like I know he ain't riding Only get low when I hear them sirens If I get caught, then I'm staying silent, like [Verse: Leeky G Bando] It ain't fair to me, uh They don't care for me no more Ask me, "Bando, baby, why you ballin' out?" Dubai ain't here with me no more That's why I be in Louis V every day Bizzy say we wearing Gucci like it's Js Mike Amiri jeans, Cartier shades Shawty used to dub me, now she in my face I was ballin' like my ni**a Blaze I done fu*ked around, caught a case Tell 'em don't fu*k around, uh I'll still shoot a ni**a in his face See I got on Louis V, so she choosing me, uh She think I'm a stain But I got the Glock, keep it on my waist Shawty, don't get shot for a blue face [Bridge: Leeky G Bando] Shawty, don't get shot for these blue faces, uh Grinding to the top, tryna dodge the hatred, uh, like They got the cops tryna build a trace Finna bond out on the case Brand new opp, get 'em out the way And we still poppin' Rosé cases [Chorus: Bizzy Banks] I make the city hot in this b*tch, uh We keep the pistol co*ked We on any block in this b*tch We make 'em Milly Rock in this sh*t We let the semi pop, Luv gon' send a shot If he moving Wock' in this b*tch .357, baby, don't trip Oh, he trust demon? No, he won't miss I tell my shooters start sliding (Sliding) If they multiplying, then we gon' divide 'em Take out they plug, the one who providing Big dog, I do the deciding That ni**a pussy, he need some guidance, like I know he ain't riding Only get low when I hear them sirens If I get caught, then I'm staying silent, like