Uh
H2, 26 inch shoes
Big boy toys, air traveller iceman shoes
Straight fool, look at the way that I wear my hair
Look at the pants and the clothes I wear
Look at the way my that my necklace glare
Cars exotic pimp skillet narcotics
Got 'em pimp skillet, sippin' on some Hypnotiq
Pimpskillet a bossy alottamajig, and Sic' Wid It
We pack staplers and zigs and hunting gear equipment
Rug-ers are rigged, I spit at chickens and pigeons
I flip the clippers at falcons and box Chevy's dippin'
Thou'n! Smokin' with my next door neighbor
Coughin', turtle and tobacco paper
Gangsta, read all about it
Northern Califoolya got the talent
Play mindgames and talk slick and slide in
That's why the P's be poppin' and the mackin' be multiplyin'

[Chorus]
Me and my weeples natural hustlers
If you need that then come get plugged by us
223's comin' out the state from us
This is Sic' Wid It, you can't fuck wit us

The Candyman, in the kitchen with the pots and pans
Fiends makin' bass pipes, out of ink pens
Where the cherries'll let ya hustle forever
But soon as the murders start occurin' they gon' come get ya
Soon as the money start to flowin' somebody gon' snitch ya
Soon as the rellis get to knowin' that youse a fixture
Off in the bushes on surveillance takin' a picture
So the poorer get poorer and the richer keep gettin' richer
Real like estate, my works carry a lot of weight
Never on time, always late on a concert date
Get it Raoul, does he know what flavor the Bay
Back up in three-one-oh they give me the playa rank
Born on a mon-day! Forty Bela-fonte!
Skippin' and skatin' and slidin', bouncin' and dippin' and glidin'
Spittin' and rappin' and rhymin', ballin' and wellin' and timin'

[Chorus]

Boy you the opposite of cold!
Your lyrics stick out, like a turd in a punchbowl
You don't give a man fish, you teach him how to fish
You don't give a broad chips, you reverse that shit
I'm talkin' about cheese (cheese)
Only time that you 'sposed to do that when, she's yo' main squeeze
Got your babies, drive Mercedes
No if's or maybe's, that's your lady
Quiet on the set!
E-40 Belafonte the greatest game spitter of all time beatin' down vets
Comin' around the corner in that clean-ass convertible drop top Corvette
How can I forget a lil' bumpy face and a bottle of that there Moet
I bumped into this Hottie, at a ghetto-ass PARTY
Frankie V jeans I seen, lookin' so fresh and so clean
Got her all up on my team, jockin' my glare and my gleam

[Chorus]

(Hot!) 40 Water is
(Hot!) Sic' Wid It still
(Hot!) number one and we
(Hot!)
(Hot!) 40 Water is
(Hot!) Sic' Wid It still
(Hot!) number one and we
(Hot!)
(Hot!)
(Hot!)
(Hot!)
(Hot!)


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Hot Lyrics as written by Earl T Stevens Earl Stevens

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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