Young Thug - Hot (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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Young Thug - Hot (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
Everything litty, I love when it's hot
Turned up the city, I
broke off the notch
Got some more millis, I keep me a knot
I created history and made me a lot
He tried to diss me and ended on Fox
We call them chopsticks
'cause they gonna chop
Took her out of Follies
'cause her pussy pop
I run it like Nike, we got it on lock
Cartier eye
I'm the bossman in a suit but no tie
I can't be sober, I gotta stay high
Pour me some syrup in a Canada Dry
Ridin' in the spaceship
like Bonnie and Clyde
Don't worry, baby, I keep me some fire
Shenenehs and Birkins,
she cannot decide
The latest Mercedes her go-to surprise
Don't sleep on miss lady,
her pussy a prize
Dick in her back while I'm
grippin' her sides
Bigger Maybach, this
ain't regular size
We really fly, we like pelican glide
Bitch, you ain't slick, I
can tell the disguise
Upgraded my wrist, put
baguettes in that Sky
She sing, I might sign her
and change her whole life
I told her to gargle and
work on her highs
Cash, money, checks, cash
Addy, Birkin, bring the bitch sandals
I just wanna fuck the bitch by myself
I just passed her to the
dawg like my Sprite
I took the Bentley coupe back, then
I hopped in a Cayenne (Skrrt)
I put the bitch in the front
of the Bentley, in front
of the driver (Skrrt)
Haven't had a sip, that that weed
you can't smoke in the Rolls
Royce, woah, woah (Yeah, yeah)
I'm strapped up, I'm cupped up, I'm drinkin',
I shoot off your tires, huh
(Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)
I'm in the coupe by myself
I had to kick a door when I was 5
Keep the old ones on the shelf
Whole sixteen round in the fire
I'm sick and tired of these young
niggas act like they firin',
they tellin' these lies
Actin' like they the ones created
this and they get all
the drip from my guys
Yeah, Cartier eyes
Cartier coat, Cartiers the watch
Cartier love, Cartier the thot
Cartier spread, buffalo on the side
Princess cut diamonds,
they Cartier, yeah
Cartier bag for the Cartier thot
Sky Wrangler coupe with
two hundred the dash
Cartier jeans, ain't no way I can sag
No way I'ma ever gon' go out bad
I can't go out, no way I'ma go out
I just grip on her ass and I show out
I sit like a champ and
I wait on a hold-out
I just whip up a new Chanel Patek
I whip with the wrist and I
don't break the door out
Turn the whole top floor
to a whorehouse
Hundreds racks in ones, dude
brought the flood out
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