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letra de hot shit - fl lotto

[prod. mf doom]

(verse 1)
if all the serpents would surface, ‘stead of circling my circ-mference
certainly i’d stay comfortable, steadily b-mping to something
surf the server and serve a server, solely spitting sermons with fervor
forever a fever pitched pervert, flipping nouns and verbs and proverbs
proceeding forward, the logical step is lotto is next up
a n-gg- so fresh, man, i gotta get my prerequi–sites
my n-gg-s are wit it if “it” is the sh-ts
and you looking for great? but dawg i’m good as it gets
i’ll make a splinter cell outta any master splinter ratting -ss n-gg-
made a dinner out his b-tch’s beaver
said she was the winner
cause she c-mming first and what is worse is i ain’t even enter yet
if my tongue game is godly, then girl my d-ck gon be heaven sent
if i ever meant anything that i ever said, its that i ain’t finished yet
i won’t stop til i own my own dealerships, ‘stead of doing this dealer sh-t
i mean it man
i mean, i done seen it all
that means i can be the man
but i’m

(hook)
so casual about the casualties, body count is racking up
acid like a battery, boy you just ain’t black enough
you speaking proper, plus you’re clean?
you premadonna. you ain’t from these streets
put this heater on you, show you what it means to be bout it bout it
man y’all dont know my struggle so dont you ever doubt it
we ain’t birds of a feather
but if this nerd can take these words and change his purpose for better
then unearth some of that herb, n-gg- i’m down for whatever

beat change// [prod. acemyth]

(hook)

(verse 2)
its the scholarship chasing, still still stressed, so im still blunt facing
learned patience is the key, gotta fake it til you make it
no stations on the radio are playing my sh-t, but like rihanna’s face baby i’m just taking my hits
no tribe, no quest, no scenario
leader of the new school, i’m busting rhymes
b-mp n grind, playing on the stereo
room spinning, sitting still, call that sh-t a merry-go
round go down and i’m licking on her areo–la
no c-ke, no cola, hidden in the back of the motorola
yola, whippin in the pot
dirt up on my shoulders, finna dust it off
feeling like she finna call me daddy
finna ben-gals over like its cincinnati
paddy wagon p-ssing, crazy like a taxi, padded like a maxi
fashionable, so i smash a baddie, every nationality

(hook)

- fl lotto

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