Hot Plate

[Intro: Boldy James]

Concrete

Two-way, deuce, siete

Creature Gang

Yeah, GxFR

[Verse 1: Boldy James]

What's the verdict? What's the relation? The murderer's in your sanction

It's business, not personal, ain't no vertical limitation

With Percival on the river, he servin' 'em with inflation

Work for the low, brodie got the chirps and them bitches takin'

Shinin' and they flakin' like the diamonds in my bracelet

Just ran off on my Turkish plug, first time was the Jamaicans

Third time was a charm, blew thirty-thousand on my pendant

Came from dry whippin'

'Dweller on my wrist, so l know sky's the limit

Five minutes to flush, kept a crush on that Fox Boogie

18C Glock fully, givin' opps noogies

Know I'm that nigga Pop Kane, I know a killer got saved

Been on one since I shot Dave, done felt more pain than Rod Wave

Could've been left, but I stayed, all of the debts that I paid

Got too much dirt on my hands, stuck on that yellow brick road

On the run from the discos, Big Creature, he got six toes

Done pulled so many kick doors, slipped off so many spot raids

Yeah

[Chorus: Boldy James & Rome Streetz]

Took so many risks and got paid

Cookin' up on the hot plate, know we turnt up the crime rate

In that Maybach behind shades

We sticky as some Scotch tape, you know this shit be John Blaze

Stuck in my Lou' Vuitton ways

Had on this fit for nine days, black Off-White, number five J's

Everything we touch is high grade

Know we turnt up the crime rate, we the ones burnt up the highway (Ayy)

[Verse 2: Rome Streetz]

Ayy, real dope boy, every day another transaction (Uh-huh)

Started off goin' hand-to-hand, got a kilogram and I'm still taxin'

Real action, out the pot, broke the rock down to lil' fragments

Got all types of clientele on the cell from Elmont to Manhattan (Uh-huh)

Stretch the work, I'm Mr. Fantastic

Before I had a fan, I had a ratchet (Bah)

Two-hundred yams wrapped in the plastic, finessin' your Amex Classic

Had to switch my situation, now it's diamonds in the glasses (Bling)

Every snake in the grass dead, was sellin' H to a crack head

Now we gettin' rich

You bum-ass niggas washed up, on your last leg (You niggas washed)

Fifteen-hundred for the Ricks, took a lot of risks for the fast bread

Got the Xans and the Roxycontin pills, niggas call just to grab meds

Make the work disappear

I'm David Copperfield, the Glock is filled up with lead (Bah)

[Outro: Rome Streetz]

Grrt