a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

e-40 - my whip hot lyrics

[chorus: decadez]
dumpin’ in the clutch, drugs in the trunk
no license and i ain’t had task for months
my whip hot (my whip hot)
my whip hot (my whip hot)
whip’s still rolling, so it’s all good
if you blink you might miss me riding through yo’ hood
my whip hot (my whip hot)
my whip hot (my whip hot)

[verse 1]
give me some gloves and a screwdriver, hot wire, watch him go to work
in his do-dirt buggy he stole, dope wagon, a key, a skirt (skirt)
keep a hooptie underbucket in case he might have to murk
somebody hurt, somebody, mayne, pop him, wet up their shirt
leave a sucka stinkin’, not smelling good like a cert
not for joyriding but for supplying and pushing purp
take the scenic route, take the back road, it’s high alert
super thug dressed like a square, know how to convert
getting head, b-tches know potna about his bread
taking chances in the car when he might end up dead
mannish living in boulevard, moving real greedy-like
shoot you in the face ’cause he really ain’t tryna fight
put you in your place, in the dark not in the light
with the sh-t like toilet paper and baby wipes
nah, this ain’t no rental, nah, this ain’t what i bought
take you on a high speed chase ’cause the car hot

[verse 2]
thumper in a b-tch name from bodega bay (ay!)
stolen credit card, mayne, that’s a throwaway (ay!)
they call me four yard, mayne, potna, i don’t play (nope)
i was built this way it’s mandatory where i stay
i’m sellin’ broccoli and c0ke, tryna keep my family afloat
me, you and a bunch my n-ggas in the same boat
the economy’s f-cked up, it’s f-cked up, i can’t vote
’cause i got priors and plus a jail record long as a rope
i’m tired of being broke, doin’ the opposite of soap
wanna turn my life around, when it ain’t no antidote
grandmama saved, sanctified, filled with the holy ghost
they be prayin’ for me, askin’ god to keep me close
i’ll be doin’ the most, hecka hard-headed until they get me
don’t believe fat meat greasy, doin’ a buck 50 up in a 65 mile per hour (zone)
finger on my pistol (chrome), bust you in yo’ f-ckin’ (dome)
you n-ggas betta leave me ‘lone (leave me ‘lone)
biatch!

[interlude]
some cars are stolen for joyriding
some cars are stolen for transportation or get away from a crime scene

[verse 3: laroo]
have the story straight, n-gga, if we slide up on a black and white
open container, a m-th-f-cka run a red light
i’ve been hustlin’ all night, shrink wrappin’
hot whip, f-ck them hoes, they high cappin’
any n-gga play that game, acrobatin’
flipped from the impact, all with my seat back
i don’t know the registered owner, i’m in a firecracker
there’s a bag in d trunk, avoid capture
b-tch run fast in heels, she know the throw-off method
so she protected (she protected)
ridin’ ’round with that phone blurpin’, time to switch that line
i keep that gps off all the time
i’m through the hood wit’ it, so they label my car
high speed potential, d-boy at large
too much luggage, we take a cab to the headquarters
then bounce back with halfs and quarters, taking orders

- e 40 lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS