Hola lyrics

by

Joell Ortiz


[Intro: Bodega Bamz]
I’m in that new whip, inside coca
Hop up out that pretty mothaf*cka like, "¡Hola!"

[Verse 1: Bodega Bamz]
Please to meet you, how you doing? Let's get this sh*t started
I've been faced with obstacles my whole life hit the target
I pray to God, I'm always asking God, "Why don't you answer?"
I live in sin, I love a stripper, she my private dancer
They only see the celebrations, keep in mind there's struggles
Watch the players on ya team, look at they face in huddles
They hid my plate, I was stuck between a rock and hard place
Bam, bam, my fathers name is Barney Ruble
Went to Barneys 'cause my shorty got the 50 discount
She work for corporate, f*ck it, still selling work out this b*tch' house
Of course I'm mad the Knicks ain't win a chip since '73
Of course you mad your baby mother wanna f*ck with me
I got some anger issues, only pus*y calm me down
I'm from the East side, Spanish Harlem’s only golden child
I'm only into fast money, that slow hustle trash
I see my lawyer once a month and bring that duffle bag
These rappers frauds, when you see them it's the hugs and fives
Been playing 2k since 2000, now ya’ll changing lives
Asking “how the f*ck this Latin rapping like no other”
That papi spitting, written feel it realer, word to mother
I don't need your validations, or your top-ten rap picks
I don't need the freshman cover Class, to make a classic
f*ck the votes, I don't parle with the politicians
My paroles, all the homies coming out the prison
f*ck the system, they designed a plan for me to fail
And while we wait for the second coming, I'm raising hell
[Hook: Bodega Bamz]
I’m in that new whip, inside coca
Hop up out that pretty mothaf*cka like, "¡Hola! ¡Hola! ¡Hola! ¡Hola!"
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Y'all know what it is, if you don't put on ya sets belt
Fat Latin rapper, you spazzing but you gon need help
Labels try to label a n*gga you know how we felt
They don't see the sandwich, but they'll show up when the cheese melt
Dagnabit, I'm back at it, a crack habit
Laying vocals on the top floor like a rap attic
I knew I'd run this sh*t I bought a track jacket
Black maxes, and a starter pistol let it clap lapping
Everybody like Micheal Phelps after a dab package
Took em to school and rocked, yea I Jack Blacked it
Thought I was joking, When y'all laughed at it
I was DEAD serious, now my competition attract maggots
When my city ain't fit in, who brought it back snapping
I Put New York on my back, Yankee cap backwards
Always showed up, Sho nuff I’m the last dragon
Stacking cats in bags, while y'all was Kat stacking
This is God’s work and hard work
When this pen in my hand, it's Henny and Cran'—bar work
When I converse it's a All Star Converse
Tailored to make n*ggas chuck deuces and long hearse
Sorry won't fly
Can't spell apologize without looking at an appalled OG before your eyes
They say Business is business can't take it personal
What if you made it your business to take it personal
All of y'all can get it, this business ain't one personal
A 16s merciful god forbid a 32
64s war Saw 1-4 surgical
Any more a have ya core fans search Earth for you
See my name got way more than respect on it
I got fear on it, not even the best want it
So come for me like a bench warrant
I warrant the bench for you have you at the game but not dressed for it
[Hook: Bodega Bamz]
I’m in that new whip, inside coca
Hop up out that pretty mothaf*cka like, "¡Hola! ¡Hola! ¡Hola! ¡Hola!"
Say hi to a boss b*tch a boss b*tch
Say hi to a boss b*tch, a boss b*tch
Say hi to a boss b*tch, a boss b*tch
Say hi to a boss b*tch, a boss b*tch

[Verse 3: Nitty Scott]
I'm in the summer V, no stubble, we buttery, AH
Cop trees, chop cheese when I f*ck with the AHKS
n*ggas think they wrote the book, but it's more like a pamphlet
Brujeria, I could heal up your soul or I snatch it, AH
Sometimes I'm over your head
But n*gga imma get across like it's over your bed
I just get PAN, f*ck wit a DON
And never really let these n*ggas know what I'm on
Cause he could go from papi to pendejo, n*gga real quick
Now he calling me Perico, I don’t feel sh*t
It was 40, made 120, that’s a real flip
And I been around the world without a deal b*tch
Cause my father chose a goddess from the isla
She bump Celia Cruz and Lisa Lisa
They went on half the kid, the Angelita
Dangle little spanglish, that's AFRO LATINA
Rest in peace abuela, never got to tell her
Hope you found your pleasure, know your life was a novella
Pullin' on your rosary, praying that-it get better
But Imma do it MEGA, meet you in MECCA
I got the proof that little Buddha be the truth in this
Ludacris, smooth I'm movin' with you'd think it's lube in this
I'm cooler than Cool J, how I'm doin' it
Well done, Peter Luger sh*t, a n*gga lucrative
[Hook: Bodega Bamz]
I’m in that new whip, inside coca
Hop up out that pretty mothaf*cka like, "¡Hola! ¡Hola! ¡Hola! ¡Hola!"
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
Say hi to a boss, b*tch, a boss, b*tch
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