Bodega BAMZ - Latino Heat, Pt. 2 lyrics

[Verse 1: A$ton Matthews] I'm Vince McMahon with the automatic Got the p**y, got the power and the dollars comin', [?] static Hit 'em up, never worry 'bout it Do my sh** and never say a word about it Young Iraq boys Click clack brrrat boys Chopper like a turban, handsmade I'm a serpent, swervin' in a Bourbon, stone cold servin' Woop, run up in your sh**, give me all that Put your brain where the wall at Put your b**h on the strip Till she bring it all back, show, show me the money Show me where the jars at, give her dick Never call back, so tell me what you call that I think that I'm [?] Hello, ladies It's Young Brick Flair in that CL 'Cedes And she gon' [?] me So cuff that b**h if she owe baby Move birds like a parakeet Like a game got a pair of seats, front row Big pop a punk, it's a gun show You think it's a game till they unload Versace, versace, versace, versace She working the top till the tip of it sloppy Versace, versace I woot for my troop, I got [?] papi And they pilot, day and nights, I don't doubt it Them body parts start pilin' I shoot without a co-pilot, stylin' [Interlude: Bodega Bamz] You know when me and A$ton connect it's always motherf**in' real My Cali connect and all that We might cutthroat a n***a Take his whole f**ing head off to get that chain, n***a [Verse 2: Bodega Bamz] Another show, another dollar Another b**h, another body Another n***a feeling sour Same n***a catch a homy Independent n***a making major moves How I play the game, like I made the rules Live wire, told labels I refuse Short circuit, shot fired, I make the news Rock the bell so I paid dues Who the f** is you? It's an up and coming n***a with a point Like the pencil don't break, when I show these number twos Hit him with the lei, hit a n***a dead, 187 Whoever do the most talking be the one tellin' Body in the trunk be the one smellin' Put your ear on the wall, she the one yellin' Yep, that p**y soaking, she like it I pillow talk but she bite it I f** these hoes and you wife it I keep a G and you type it Never been a f** n***a You know what I rep, 100 Keep It buck n***a I can tell you don't shoot, keep it tucked, n***a I say n***a ‘cause I can n***a, what, n***a? Mastermind but I dropped out Knocked out right hook, cut a face when the box out They ain't seen this much pa**ion since 2Pac I'm knee deep, hide the crack in my tube socks Money clean but I'm looking for a sucia [?] gun but she really love the chupa Like my next door neighbor call her punca Keep down the noise [?] puta! [Outro: A$ton Matthews] These motherf**ers ain't ready for none of that They ain't ready for none of that Talking that bullsh** on this motherf**er You know what I'm saying? Cutthroat boys, Tanboys in this motherf**er From the East to the West side n***a, that's how we giving this sh** up What's up? Do something, n***a Choppin' on sight Chop, chop, choppin' on sight Chop, chop, choppin' on sight Chop, chop, choppin' on sight Chop, choppin' on sight Chop, choppin' on sight Chop, chop, choppin' on sight Yeah, we choppin' on sight Choppin' on sight Chop, chop, choppin' on sight Chop, chop, choppin' on sight Yeah, we choppin' on sight Yeah, we choppin' on sight Yeah, we choppin' on sight Yeah, we choppin' on sight Lord