Lyrics:

Intro: Peter Gunz
Feel it, feel it
Coma on a, come on
Da, da, da
Where ya at (where ya at)
Yo

Verse 1: Peter Gunz and Lord Tariq
I'm too hot to handle, too cold to freeze
Rice the illest shit and don't smoke no trees
Niggas won't test, but they turn around and freeze
Might get mic cancer the way I smoke m.c.s

Nigga we did it all from flippin burgs to manipulating words
Gettin' less than four Os on a check is absurd
I got the five it's feasible, but the six is preferred
So when I step, you better have my shit corrrect, ya heard

I'm in the ruber in the sand, gettin' a tan playin' frisbee
With this quarter piece, sippin on coladas gettin' dizzy
On the celly with my broker buyin shares of stock
'Cause when it stops, I'ma still be sittin' in drops

And I'm in a benz, comin' through, doin' two, pumpin lilo
Bought the cut jewels from Tif, cause the feds are watchin Tito
Stepped up from an eigth, to a half, to a kilo
To makin' mils, off this label deal, that's for real
Yo

Chorus: Peter Gunz and Lord Tariq

PG: