KRS One Lyrics

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Hot Lyrics

from The Sneak Attack

"Hot" is track #4 on the album The Sneak Attack. It was written by Gibb, Barry Alan/gibb, Maurice Ernest/gibb, Robin Hugh/parker, Lawrence Krsone.
"Hot" is track #4 on the album The Sneak Attack. It was written by Gibb, Barry Alan/gibb, Maurice Ernest/gibb, Robin Hugh/parker, Lawrence Krsone.

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Yeah, who will be standing when the smoke clears?
(KRS-One)
Word up, what's up with this? We're coming through
Boogie Down style, kid, what's up?
This is KRS-One, the light at the end of the tunnel

Yo, they not hot, all they do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not 'cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

I'm hot, been hot, repeatedly heated
Don't call the teacher, hah, you best be seated
You got these kids gazed up like you own the inventory
Fake muthafuckas ain't tellin' the whole story

Tell 'em how you borrow from everyone you knew
And now that you're on top, they can't borrow from you
That's not hot, tell 'em how you love bein' pop
'Cause you was so broke before sleepin' cold on a cot

You don't rock, you grab money
Your crocks rock the spot and you grab them honeys
It's about to get ugly
I don't even go to these bullshit kiddie-ass clubs

You wanna be a thug? Let's thug
First of all, soldiers speak to soldiers
Captains speak to captains
Lieutenant, lieutenant, cool?

But your first mistake is, he's steppin' to me, rookie
Like you a O.G. and you just a run-up, fool
Who really got these streets on lock?
Whose name really holds high respect on the block?

Who opened up these clubs and taught you how to mix?
Who opened up these thugs from Compton to the Bricks?
I don't even sound like the rest of you kiddies
I study the ways of God, you studyin' titties

And ass, I pity your class
'Cause you come out with a blast
But you're trash, so you really don't last

They not hot, all they do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

They not hot, all they do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not 'cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

This is hotter than heat, too deep, I'm on top of the streets
You weak, you ain't really rockin' these beats
You [unverified], you dress straight, eat straight
But you're a slave and yo, you can't come up in a heat tank

God we thank, we watch what we sell
You better hope these Christians are wrong 'cause you goin' to hell
Think about that when you're spittin' your raps
And you call out KRS, I'll put you flat on your back

You're not hot, all you do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

What's hot?
(KRS-One)
That's hot, what's hot?
(KRS-One)

That's hot, who's hot?
(KRS-One)
That's hot, where's your respect on the block?
(KRS-One need to be runnin' for office)
(So Butta-Pican Rican, tell 'em to get off it)

Songwriters
GIBB, BARRY ALAN/GIBB, MAURICE ERNEST/GIBB, ROBIN HUGH/PARKER, LAWRENCE KRSONE

Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

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