It's Hot (some Like It Hot) Lyrics - Vol. 3: The Life & Times Of St. Carter - Jay-z

[Jay-Z] 

Can't stop it nigga, uh 

Mm-hmm, uh-huh, can't stop that 

Timbaland uh-huh. Jigga Man uh-huh 

Yeah. Brook, Brook-Brooklyn huh? 

That's right 

Put your motherfuckin hands together, uh-huh 

Put your motherfuckin hands together 

Yo, can't stop it 

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Yo. 

Yo show closer, J-to-the-A-Y-Hovah 

Place shutter down, who the fuck'll fuck around? 

Game spitter, Range sitter, Bentley driver nigga 

Keep a full clip I have to empty out on niggaz 

Hoe bagger, no slacker, get this shit jumpin 

like eight blacks, fo' crackers, get yo' ass jumped 

Crist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga 

Gat buster, ass toucher. clit licker 

Go against Jigga yo' ass is dense 

I'm about a dollar, what the fuck is 50 Cents? 

Hot shit, kick a nigga, turn these mics out 

My jewelry so bright you can turn these lights out 

Hovah's like Noah keep two in the truck 

I'm like U-Haul; every bitch movin I fuck 

You move slut, I gotta put two in your butt 

I'm everything: the when's, why's, who's, and what 

Nigga what? 

Photos 

Chorus: Jay-Z (repeat 2X w/ minor variations) 

Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot 

My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop 

My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch 

When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop 

[Jay-Z] 

Seperate myself from the lame, no you can't see me 

I'm 6-0-0, you 300 C-E 

Give my ladies dick, my young hoes pee-pee 

Hits in a row like MJ; "Hee-hee!" 

Since I was waist height, late night, bustin in the clouds 

Runnin wild, comin home late, cussin out my mouth 

Niggaz said, "Bryan leave your cousin in the house" 

Everytime we play the Dozen, he's buggin out 

While y'all was playin yo-yo, I was sittin on low pros 

Dippin the po-po, gettin that dough-dough 

No, no I ain't stupid I take loot kid 

What's in the bank? Shoot it 

Lose it like I ain't do it 

You wanna play Jigga nigga what you drank fluid? 

Got a full tank now you wanna pull rank? 

I clap still, act ill, Jigga shoot thee 

Give you chest pains, leg sprains absolutely 

What? 

Chorus 

[Jay-Z] 

Thirty-eight revolve like the sun round the Earth 

Try to play hard get you found round the dirt 

Six shell casings found round your shirt 

{*cyring*} in surround sound from the hearse 

Jigga Man, trigger man, hit your man up 

Six shots, hit the pole, hit the van up 

Kidnap grown folks get them grands up 

Timbaland, hot shit, get them hands up 

Chorus 2X