Song Title

Kendrick Lamar - Drop It Like It’s Hot Lyrics

Kendrick Lamar – Drop It Like It’s Hot Lyrics

(Hook: Kendrick Lamar)
For my niggas that hate the fights
Get it with the Glocks
Get it with the Glocks
Get it with the Glocks
For my niggas that hustle nights
Bakin’ with the pots
Bakin’ with the pots
Bakin’ with the pots
For my niggas that know right
K-Dot is hot
K-Dot is hot
K-Dot is hot
See my game still the same, never trick on a bitch
You don’t have to tell me, I know I’m the shit

(Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar)
I’m a nice dude, livin’ my life dude
Trick on a dumb bitch is nothin’ I might do
Some try to play fools, the shots to they face shoot
I’m mean like a red bull is mean when the eight pull
I’m faithful, to whatever I stand for
That means dough, gettin’ my pesos
Gecko or Geico, whatever it stand for
Red and blue flags, yours are like a rainbow
Pants hang low
Born with the best flow since LL was rockin’ a kangol
87, one man, eighty weapons
I go hard without usin’ protection
Art help learn your lesson
When I pull out, make like R. Kelly, get to steppin’
I’m the best at this profession
I can’t help but bring it back to the essence mothafuckas

(Verse 2)
I’m a young dude, smoke the best weed
See the act right, see them dubs clean
A sexy bachelor, hit ‘em in your strokes
Never bust a nigga, goin’ down your throat
The Phantom, not rich enough to cop yet
But picture say enough for the niggas outta pocket
I can exercise you, you can get a hizzie
When I lean back, don’t dance, give me hizzie
Killa got that heat, we know killas in the street
With the heat that make you feel like a fat boy at the beach
So don’t try to run up on this on talkin’ all that sorry shit
I can rhyme and shit
If you niggas pay attention, you won’t ask me shit
You should think about it, take a second, one
Matter of fact, you should take four b
Think before you fuck with real killas in the street

(Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar)
I’m from a small city, no pity shown ‘cept hammers thrown
Quickly push back your dome like an art cone
So swiftly, come get me
If I had every bitch in the world, boy, you still ain’t fuckin’ with me
I’m ’bout my money strictly, as long as I stack my banks up
I’ll have enough Young Bucks to fuck with 50
Now who fuckin’ with me? Me and that gun was born siamese twins
So where I move, it’s comin’ with me
You down right, play with me, think I won’t take your life
The scope’ll have more dots on you than a website
I’m ’bout my head right and yours left
I swear in the vocal booth is where I’ll take my last breath
That’s K-Dot, oh you ain’t heard? Shit, that boy hot
With dime bitches runnin’ on beaches like baywatch
You sit and watch the young child with my money stacks
Add up faster than cell phones on speed dial