Twisted Heat lyrics

[Intro: Swizz Beatz]
Aowwwwwwwww!
We know y'all can drink 'til you throw up
We know y'all sittin' on 20's
We know y'all reppin' ya hood
But how many y'all KILL?!!!

[Verse 1: Twista]
Bounce that ass, load them cribs
Let me see the mob a' n*ggas that love to talk sh*t
Probably motherf*ckers that be sc*mmy and'll go for the money
But need a ride when they roll to the lick
Thugs with the Chevy's, thugs with the trucks
The real gun runner, never run when he bust
Henny in her, mob's in the front, smoke a 'dro blunt
Sippin' with a fifty sack under the nuts
Hoes with ass and no gut, lemme see you jiggle it from SIDE TO SIDE
n*ggas, if it's static, then pass me the strap, gonna RIDE TO MY RIDE
All the hoes that'll freak n*ggas with the 'fedi, let's get buck up in the club
And all my soldiers, FALL OUT, gangstas, MOB UP
All the homies on the block, ante up on the fin
And let's go get us a sack
Serve til we got a custom 'Llac, hustlin' packs
'til a n*gga bust, then we bustin' back
Guys that'll roll them dice and win
Girls with the 'fits that show the skin
Real n*ggas, mind yo' best friend at the pen
Real hoes, let your best friend know about men
'Cause I be squeezin' ass and make a full glass disappear like a genie
Move to The Lox and Beanie
While them hoes backin' that thang up on my weenie
It's like no n*gga in the world could see me, when I Ruff Ryde with Drag-On
Rollin' up big babies in a Mercedes
If you want herb, we got bombs
[Chorus: Twista & (Drag-On)]
Gotta kick that sh*t for the fine b*tches and all my nuh's
For the ones that smoke pot, do stick-ups, and ball in our hood
What do a n*gga say when they see Drag-On and Twista? (Kill me)
Gangstas (Let's ride), hustlers (Feel me)

Gotta kick that sh*t for the fine b*tches and all my nuh's
For the ones that smoke pot, do stick-ups, and ball in our hood
What do a n*gga say when they see Drag-On and Twista? (Kill me)
Gangstas (Let's ride), hustlers (Feel me)

[Verse 2: Drag-On]
By now, everybody should know that the kid spit tight
And this kid spit firelight
Like the b*tch I don' f*cked like last night?
I don't give a f*ck 'bout a 2 and a half mics
'Cause the only motherf*ckin' magazine that I read
That's the one I buy my gun from it
How many bullets you could digest in that one stomach?
I suggest y'all run from it
And the click-click from the Calico, it gotta go
Like a pimp with a lot of hoes
I'm the same motherf*cker that's countin' that dough
Cookin' that coke to a pot of gold
'Cause my rainbow is every color top that a crackhead cop
I don't care if I gotta cap me a cop
As long as I got enough money to cop me a drop, pop enough Glocks
Drag open up dope spots and co-op's and count dough in condos!
Keep the heat up in jeeps, just in case y'all creep up on me
I'll run up on y'all in a cab with the 'meter on me
And the only one leavin' is me
And the only one bleedin' is you
Tryin' to breeze with me?
All I rock is E-N-Y-C-E, in the NYC with the white T
All I really do is R-U double F R-Y-D-E
D-R-A-G, to the dash O-N, catch me
Smokin' potent, bet I leave y'all n*ggas soakin'
With ya insides open
[Chorus: Twista & (Drag-On)]
Gotta kick that sh*t for the fine b*tches and all my nuh's
For the ones that smoke pot, do stick-ups, and ball in our hood
What do a n*gga say when they see Drag-On and Twista? (Kill me)
Gangstas (Let's ride), hustlers (Feel me)

Gotta kick that sh*t for the fine b*tches and all my nuh's
For the ones that smoke pot, do stick-ups, and ball in our hood
What do a n*gga say when they see Drag-On and Twista? (Kill me)
Gangstas (Let's ride), hustlers (Feel me)

Gotta kick that sh*t for the fine b*tches and all my nuh's
For the ones that smoke pot, do stick-ups, and ball in our hood
What do a n*gga say when they see Drag-On and Twista? (Kill me)
Gangstas (Let's ride), hustlers (Feel me)

[Interlude: Swizz Beatz]
ERRRRRRR!!!!
Hold the f*ck up! (Slow down!)
Drag, Twista (Listen up!)
These motherf*ckers don't know what's real out here
(They damn sure don't!)
This is volume 2 (Volume 2), n*gga – so, get ignorant!

[Chorus: Twista & (Drag-On)]
Gotta kick that sh*t for the fine b*tches and all my nuh's
For the ones that smoke pot, do stick-ups, and ball in our hood
What do they say when they see Drag-On and Twista? ("Will they kill me?")
Gangstas (Let's ride), hustlers (Feel me)
[Verse 3: Twista]
Whether murder or bouncy beats, my flow be philosophical
Smokin' on tropical, achievin' all missions impossible
When I'm up the block at you, I'mma pop at you
If your mama cry, there's nothin' I could do
Should not've f*cked with Mr. Illogical
When I'm in to clubbin', thuggin' – shake it, don't you break it
Your booty too sacred, can't take it, wanna see you naked
I done drunk a blue motherf*cker, so you know I'm lit up!
Everybody get up! Sweat for the Twista, it's a stick-up!

[Verse 4: Drag-On, (Swizz Beatz)]
This where the sh*t pick up, let me load this clip up
Just pour me some liquor, Flame-On and Twista
Let's see if you're murdered, who'd miss ya
I love the dirty south, that's why I got a dirty mouth
That'll burn ya out, tell ya b*tch I got a di*k that'll turn her out
Especially when I tell her "turn around," "I don' heard it now!"
'Til they come back, and I think it's time to get murdered now
'Cause I'm tired of circus clowns, spittin' out weak sh*t
Sound-a-lot-like-me sh*t
You gon' make me pull a all nighter
Standin' in front of ya crib with that gasoline and that lighter
That way we won't miss ya, Drag-On and Twista
(Put it on 'em!)