Make It Hot

I, I came to put it down

Straight from New York to da a-town

Haters wanna see me down

I ain't even put, put, put it down

And when I'm flippin' the script and they gon' be like-oh

And if I skip em' or chip em' they gon' be like-no

Cause when I'm spittin' they sittin' cause they already-know

This real music I make it hot

It's little mama voice of the young people

Mouthpiece for the young breeze so slow ya speed..whoa!

I'm about that fetty, about that that dough, about that flow

After me that's as far as it goes

Cause little mama got whips and chains

The only time you see it bark is at a tear for I'm a walk ya game

Been g'd up since hawk was lain

So you doubt me you doubt ya brain

Must, must be insane to ever thinkin' that a chick like b could ever, ever see a chick like me

That's crazy!

And if you ever thought that it might be

Then you betta step ya j-o-b, up baby!

Been crazy since I was a baby!

Now ya girl switch write bars and spit crazy

Let the whole world know I gets crazy!

Wit' the music I make it hot

Hot, hot my lyrics be popping

Oh how I could just spit it so sloppy

The way that I be rocking they probably think I?m cocky

But they don't know about me I grab it 'til I lock it-down

They pointin' fingas and chose me cause I'm a hold it-down

I'm spittin' records and bet this you can't control it-now

They spinning? records and notice that I'ma hold it-down

Wit the music I make it pop

Pop, pop dough school, pro tool,

Get in the booth and I'ma show you how a pro do

Me to you whom

Not even I could stand up when I

Why try look, my eyes don't lie

I don't see nobody close as I

I been lookin' through my periphial vision and I

Start to wonder hypnosed is I

Nobody as nice as I remember that I, I, I

It's little mama!

Voice of the young people!

This real music I make it hot

It's little mama!