Lyrics

I’m the hottest in the city I’m hottest in this place
Place
I got lyrics by the plenty Might be hottest in the state
Bitch I’m modest I ain’t fake Ain’t no hiding no escape
I’m so fly without the cape I’m throwing shade without the drapes

I Got that loud pack from B Marsh
take an ounce back and it be harsh
Then I bounce back on the sea horse
And douse tracks with the G force
I shout facts like a Mean source
I Spark dabs with the green torch
While Out back in a screen porch

I’m the hottest in this city I’m the hottest in this place
got the crew behind me sitting I’m the whitest in the face
No I do not find my crew by who’s complexion match my race
But I will compare the merits see who serious she who’s fake

I’m like Ledger your like Leto
I’m like Phoenix,I’m like let’s go
genius grizz
Who you think the meanest is
Let’s go Go and see with
In your peers
Let’s go see if they exist
Uh
I insist
Uh

I’m hottest in the city I’m the hottest in this place
You got lyrics that are lacking you ain’t joggin At my pace
But a few of you got views n likes, and hype got the basse
Get my crew behind the motion you’ll be gone without a trace




Plow take me to ya house
Wow You Keep your fucking blouse on
But it is what it is
Told these mother Fukas I’m in it
Like shit was depends
Well you say you wanna get it
Well shit that really depends
On whether or not
Your pen defends
Your spot or not
I bury my pen
And grow my
Crops of thought
And it’s time for the harvest
Got My vision like I’m jarvis
I’m grinding the farthest
Ain’t got no time for no car list
Just come and try me I’m heartless
My mind Is the sharpest
Im flyer than carpets
I’m High up in my office
Up in cloud nine
Shout out Zel, price and ELL
Like fine wine
Real rapper Roll dice D E L
We prime time
So where’s mine
Look
RAMG
Undebatably
The best MCs
Since 2 PAC
Yeah
These trees ain’t free
I’m Whipping the GMC
Pushing that TNT
Precision CNC
Man
I really don’t think you get it
I think you should just admit it
You frauds will not be acquitted
You Step to me be committed
My suits they about to be fitted
Fuck your pitch I’m bout to hit it
Watch these lips I’m bout to spit it
Shoot my roots in if I dig it
Lift this roof up On some spinach
Grip my broom stick like it quittage
Spit some truth and then Im finished