Clipse Hot Damn Lyrics

Hot Damn Lyrics

[Intro: Pharrell Williams]

Now they saying we're too hot

New verses
please, c'mon



[Chorus - 1: Pharrell Williams] (Malice)

Hot damn!
it's a new day!

Hot damn! but them boys want the (RPC: money
man)

Hooooouuuuuu (uh huh)

Hooooouuuuuu (of corse)

Hooooouuuuuu
('fore you say what you say)

Hot damn!



[Verse: Malice]

My how
the boys roam

From roaming, loc, and come home

To homes of his
own

No catching 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 could

I not enjoy life I'm reliving my
childhood

Big chain monsta, whip game bonkas

Monster truck remind him
of Tonka

Diamond F color, plush gold still gutter

My dealer's in the
mills motherfuck' and I ain't studder

Bitter sweet, my life's a
musical

From holding those to Bose gold, the Lord's beautiful

Before
him I'm too shamed to show my face

But shits so mean I can't help but to
fall from grace, motherfucker



[Chorus - 2: Pharrell Williams]

Hot
damn! it's a new day!

Hot damn! but them boys want the (RPC: money
man)



[Verse: Ab Liva]

Hot - damn, when the white hit the pan
it

Twists and it tumbles it, flips and the fumbles

I - mix it like
Gumbo; I - pitch it so subtle

I - keep hustlers puzzled, Feds I got em
wondering (wondering)

'What Happened To That boy'

Six maneuver, how'd I
slip into that toy

Is it the pimp, the crook, the hustling thing

The
man, the music that making a king

I'm simply building my Ming

A million
men marchin like condom(?)

I'm the King Kong, my verse making the world
sing

My heart's on the sleeve for

Your face is just like
mine

Peeking from bars hoping the sun shines on em

But you still got to
watch the phonies

Watch your homies, we {*gun shots* got you
homie!



[Chorus - 2]



[Verse: Pusha T]

Uhh! handle the rock
like nonr other

Grits over the stove, head under the cupboard

In the
kitchen till the fume make me 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

The he who holds O's like Krispy Kreme's oven

Or easy bake, pink
divies make

The presidential should look like strawberry shortcake,
P!



[Pharrell Williams]

Imagine that Rolls Royce crashed in, me
unscratched in

That millionaire boys club fashion

Uh, you niggas is
clones

I hand out styles like ice cream cones, the fuck outta
here



[Verse: Pusha T]

That's Pha-real my gats is real

The SL 5
is lookin like the Batmobile

Chrome lids with the matching wheels

Uh,
both chains probably match ya deal

Y'all dudes is an act fa real,
Pusha



[Chorus - 2]



[Verse: Roscoe P. Coldchain]

Neither
the sun or death can be looked at

That's what an OG told me

That was
the exact moment I decided to take a pact

And if you owe me and if I
decided to take it back

It wasn't nicely expect Rosco to put you back, in
place

I'm what you call a destructive warpath

It'll be a shell shower
in today's forecast

You a gangsta? I can't tell

You diamonds don't
glimmer when the light hit it

Those jewels aren't genuwine, cause if they
was I'm nice wit it

I woulda' been took that

That skinny stack in your
pocket I woulda been shook that

In this world you gotta watch it, I'm hear
to warn ya

Cats turned informant, over snow wrapped in wax

My son's
home crying, don't give me no slack

Just put the motherfucking money in the
bag

These words are being said as I hide behind glove and mask

Coat
change not your typical crook

I'm being watched look at the camera lens in
the bush



[Chorus - 2]