Sterling Sound in New York City, New York - Hot Damn lyrics

[Intro - Pharrell] Now they saying we're too harsh New verses please, c'mon [Hook] Hot damn It's a new day! Hot damn But them boys want the money man) Hooooouuuuuu Hooooouuuuuu Hooooouuuuuu What you say, what you say Hot damn! [Verse 1 - Malice] My, how the boy's grown From roaming low-income homes To homes of his own No catching up, he's in a whole another zone Still true to his roots, stay close to the chrome Haters stay clear of 'em, y'all stand cheer for him Got up out the game and overcame, let's hear it for him Keep a new toy, so I wonder how could I not enjoy life, I'm reliving my childhood Big chain monster, whip game bonkers Monster truck, remind him of Tonka Diamond F color, plush gold still gutter My deal is in the mils, motherf**er And I ain't stutter Bittersweet, my life's a musical From holding nose to rose gold, the Lord's beautiful Before him I'm too shamed to show my face But sh**'s so mean Can't help but to fall from grace, motherf**er [Hook] [Verse 2 - Ab Liva] Hot damn, when the white hit the pan it Twists and it tumbles it, flips and it fumbles I mix it like gumbo, I pitch it so subtle I keep hustlers puzzled Feds, I got 'em wondering Wondering, what happened to that boy Six maneuver, how'd I slip into that toy Is it the pimp, the crook, the hustlin' thing The man, the music they're making a king I'm simply building my mink A million men marching like Martin Luther King The King Kong of verse, making the world sing My heart's on the sleeve for dark faces just like mine Peeking through bars, hoping the sun shines on 'em But you still got to watch the phonies Watch your homies, we got you homie [Hook] [Verse 3 - Pusha T] Yuugh Handled the rock like none other Wrist over the stove, head under the cupboard In the kitchen 'til the fume make me feel smothered The way it melt, fiends can't believe it's not bu*ter The way it melt, he won't cop from none other Then he who holds Os like Krispy Kreme's oven Or Easy Bake, pink divies make The Presidential look like strawberry shortcake, P [Pharrell] Imagine that Rolls Royce crashed and me unscratched In that Billionaire Boy's Club fashion Uh, you n***as is clones I hand out styles like ice cream cones\ The f** outta here [Pusha T] That's for real, my gats is real SL 5 is lookin like the Batmobile Chrome lips with the matching wheels Yuugh Both chains probably match your deal Y'all dudes is an act for real, Pusha [Hook] [Verse 4 - Rosco P. Coldchain] Neither the sun or d**h can be looked at That's what an OG told me That was the exact moment I decided to take a pact And if you owe me and if I decided to take it back It wasn't nicely, expect Rosco to put you back, in place On you call a destructive warpath It'll be shell showers in today's forecast You a gangsta, I can't tell Your diamonds don't glimmer when the light hit it Those j**els aren't genuine, because if they was I'm nice with it, I woulda' been took that That skinny stack in your pocket, I woulda been shook that In this world you gotta watch it, I'm hear to warn you Cats turned informant, over snow wrapped in wax My son's home cryin', don't give me no slack Just put the motherf**ing money in the bag These words are being said as I hide behind glove and mask Coldchain's not your typical crook I'm being watched look at the camera lens in the bush [Hook]