Similar Songs
Credits
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Maurice Hicks
Composer
Lyrics
Come on, RNB shit
Yeah, yeah
It's gettin' hot out, ooh, shit
Yeah, yeah
It's gettin' hot out, ooh, I ain't know when that beat drop (Yeah, yeah)
It's gettin' hot out, summertime bustin', the bops out, boyfriend cheatin', she be thirsty to pop out (Damn)
She throwin' it back on top of the car, now every red light, she gon' hop out (Damn)
He textin' her phone, tell her get in the crib, but she don't even care what he talkin' 'bout
At the end of the night, she drunk reply to his text, tryna get him to calm down
Ass fat, when it clap, sound like gun sounds
Chase him down, make a fat **** six pounds
Hit his head, make a tall **** get down
Trackhawk dance in the rain like Chris Brown
Summertime, got the hoes throwin' booty
Like ten shots in, tryna make her a movie (Damn)
Don Julio got the hoes gettin' groovy
She text, "Where you at?" And you missed it, you goofy
Spilled cold water on my shirt and it blew me
Wanna ride with the migos, bad and bougie
Fuck Alo and Lulu, I'll buy her some Louis
Wanna try on some new shit, buy her some Pucci
She like me, she told it's wet like jacuzzi
Dive in that water, tryna drown in the coochie
No lifeguard, them **** not on shit
She got a thumper, we call her Big Booty Judy
It's gettin' hot out, summertime bustin', the bops out, boyfriend cheatin', she be thirsty to pop out (Damn, damn, damn, come on, damn, yeah)
She throwin' it back on top of the car, now every red light, she gon' hop out (Damn)
He textin' her phone, tell her get in the crib, but she don't even care what he talkin' 'bout (Ah)
At the end of the night, she drunk reply to his text, tryna get him to calm down (Slatt, slatt, gang, gang)
Slatt, he wanna know why his bitch actin' different 'cause it's gettin' hot
Fall and the winter, she stayed in the house, when the sun came out, that bitch turned to a thot (She turned to a ho)
She drinkin' until she drops, she done threw up twice and still won't stop (What the fuck?)
Every time you check her story, all you hear is, "Baddie, baddie, shot o'clock"
I don't trick off bitches 'cause all of 'em goin', say my ho fuckin', I'm already knowin' (What? What?)
Leave five minutes from home and she tryna fuck in the car, she a lil' too horny (You a lil' too horny)
Anywhere, I'm good, ****, I got rank in the hood, I ain't a regular shorty (I ain't no kid)
Don't think your bitch went missin', that bitch at Big Wig, hoin' at 4 in the morning
It's gettin' hot out, summertime bustin', the bops out, boyfriend cheatin', she be thirsty to pop out (Damn, damn, damn, come on, damn, yeah)
She throwin' it back on top of the car, now every red light, she gon' hop out (Damn)
He textin' her phone, tell her get in the crib, but she don't even care what he talkin' 'bout
At the end of the night, she drunk reply to his text, tryna get him to calm down
Written by: Maurice Hicks
