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hoods hottest - ni santora lyrics

[part i]

[verse]
too real, we don’t know pretend
no snitching, rather hold a sentence
all this badness but no repentance
i keep it cool cause i don’t want attention
but my g’s still make a greazy entrance
kmt, from young i’ve been a dentist
blow the waps off, i’ve been a menace
that’s a racket, i don’t mean no tennis
hillfields where i be respected
no commenting from me detective
no talking, keep the streets protected
wrap n*ggas akh, i’m feeling festive
got a problem? get the beef commencing
learned from the streets, i’ve been attending
death wish, tryna beef my bredrins
hillfields, been real, got way too many g’s to mention
mad man heat selection
watch movies, i don’t mean no westerns
send the younger g’s to go finesse ’em
run through with the loaded weapon
cold hearted, there ain’t no regretting
it gets overheated
bad yute, i had to hold some beatings
bro you don’t know how c*o*v is
i ride out for the d*o*g’s
tunes so cold cah the flows are freezing
mad phone, come with blow this evening
enough to say but you know me and speaking
mum gone, still ain’t over grieving
smoke to the ceiling
this dank’s got a n*gga leaning
i’m just tryna get this glizzy beating
i came home with a hungry feeling
i won’t stand and watch my broski bleeding
put work in, like f*ck the reason
twelve gauge, have a soldier screaming
see feds on the road, i’m breezing
got me thinking bout my broski’s freedom
i was broke so i took it from
sh*t’s changed up, now i’m tryna push it on
still do a mazza if these n*ggas want it
late night whip, i’m in suttin foreign
i was an inmate, i was doing porridge
too busy on these roads, i didn’t do college
just got another one, i’m tryna make two from it
had to do couple wrongs, i’m too drilly, too on it
too strizzy, who wants it?
sticks like we do hockey
i was eighteen, riding round with two shottys
now i’m back on the road, tryna move rapid
got this short fuse on me, better move from it
i’ve got this tool on me
[part ii]

[verse 1]
i live what they chat, it’s just rap to them
sitting back, counting all the mazzas them
every day blowing clouds for every day i’m not sat in pen
but wrong moves, that’s a man slapping off the waps again
one*two phone calls and sh*t gon’ get mad for them
real real mad for them, die before a man pretend
all the d*mn time they love chat lies
they ain’t ever lived a trap life for a d*mn night
ni in the booth, bout to turn up the gas again
different lane, us we ain’t the same, higher class to them
i put the fear in them when they’re staring down the barrel end
keep heat real close, suttin like a family friend
f*ck pen, sitting listening to wass again
but i still get the drop at nine and land at ten
i buss a m if i have to see if i can buss a m
i spit facts for them, f*ck with my tracks again

[hook]
we’ve got the food, no taco, tools and ammo
burner in the pouch, you’ll get smoked, no tobacco
yeah i did it for the fammo, go lengths like an arrow
had a wap on me every day when it was aggro
we’ve got the food, no taco, tools and ammo
burner in the pouch, you’ll get smoked, no tobacco
yeah i did it for the fammo, go lengths like an arrow
had a wap on me every day when it was aggro
[verse 2]
they took it there but my guys took it further
waps on deck, leave his chest wet like a surfer
i ain’t tryna chef when we’ve got corn in the burner
cl!ck, cl!ck, have him moving quicker than a cursor
you can get your head buss for talking what don’t concern you
bro put in work for me and i’ll do it vice versa
heat to your head, not like your wife’s curler
here we go again, bro’s badding up his worker
new day, same sh*t, same grind, same strip
same story, tryna do more to leave the game rich
be careful, get blammed before your blade fl!cks
the old rifle came longer than the day trip
new day, same grind, gotta take risks
know to pop corn like showcase is
peak when the feds them raid ’em
wap in the bag holding t**th like braces

- ni santora lyrics

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