Clipse Hot Damn (cot Damn Remix) Lyrics

Hot Damn (cot Damn Remix) Lyrics

(Chorus):
Hot damn...it's a new day
Hot damn...but the boys wanted money
mang
Hooo....hooo....hooo....hot damn

(Malice):
My, how the boy's
grown
From roamin' ? homes to homes of his own
There's no catchin' up,
he's in a whole 'nother zone
Still true to his roots, stay close to the
chrome
Haters stay clear of him, y'all stand, cheer for him
Got up out
the game and overcame, let's hear it for him
Keep a new toy, so I wonder how
good
I'm not enjoying life, I'm reliving my childhood
Big chain monster,
whip game bonkers
Monster truck remind him of Tonka
Diamond F-color plus
gold, still gut her
The ill is in the mills motherfucker, I ain't
studder
Bittersweet, my life's a musical
From holding O's, to rolls gold,
the Lord's beautiful
Before him, I'm too ashamed to show my face
But she's
so mean, can't help but to fall from
grace
Motherfucker

(Chorus)

(Ab-Liva):
Hot damn, when that
white hit the pan, it
Twists and it tumbles, it
Flips and it fumbles,
I
Mix it like gumbo, I
Pitch it so subtle, I
Keep hustle ?, I got 'em
wonderin'
What happened to that boy?
Six manuever, how to slip into that
toy
Enter the pimp, the crook, the hustler thing
The man, the music, the
making the king
I'm simply building my mink
Many men marchin' like
?
King Kong, the verse makin' the world sing
? just like mine
Peekin'
through bars, hopin' the sun shines on him
But you still got to watch the
phonies
Watch your homies, we pop pop, got you
homie

(Chorus)

(Pusha T):
Ugh...handled the rock like none
other
Wrist over the stove, head under the cupboard
In the kitchen 'til
the fumes make him feel smothered
The way it melt, fiends can't believe it's
not butter
The way it melt, he won't cop from none other
Than he who holds
O's like Krispy Kreme's oven
Or easy bake, pink ? make
The presidential
look like strawberry shortcake

(Pharrel):
Imagine that Rolls Royce
crashed and 
Me unscratched and billionaire boys for fashion
Ugh...you
niggas is clones
I hand out styles like ice cream cones, man fuck outta
here

(Pusha T):
That's for real, my gats is real
The SL5 is
lookin' like the Batmobile
Chrome lips with the matchin' wheels
Both
chains probably match your deal
Y'all dudes is a act for
real
Pusha

(Chorus)

(Roscoe P. Goldchain):
Either the sun
or death can be looked at
That's what an old G told me
That was the exact
moment I decided to take a path
And if you owed me, and if I decided to take
it back
I would nicely expect Roscoe to put you back in place
I don't
know what you call a destructive warpath
It'll be shell showers in today's
forcast
You a gangsta? I can't tell
Your diamond don't glimmer when the
light it it
Those jewels are genuine, because if they was, I'm nice with
it
I would have been took that
That skinny stack in your pocket, I would
have been shook that
In this world you gotta watch it, I'm here to warn
ya
Cats turnin' former, over ? wrapped in wax
My son's home cryin', don't
give me no slack
Just put your motherfuckin' money in the bag
These words
are being said as I hide behind glove and mask
Goldchain's not your typical
crook
I'm being watched, look at the camera ladies and push

(Chorus)