Hot f. Celph Titled & Apathy Lyrics
| Song | Hot f. Celph Titled & Apathy |
| Artist | Cunninlynguists |
| Album | Strange Journey Volume Three |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| What is the Question? | |
| [Verse 1: Celph Titled] | |
| Now when I see the man in the mirror | |
| I see an animal clearer | |
| The teeth look sharp, and and ain’t a man that’s much realer | |
| I do somersaults and flips with nunchucks like a ninja turtle | |
| I’m very bold, I’ll sell crack on an infomercial | |
| I tell you what, if I don’t get the props I deserve | |
| Imma leave you bleeding by the curb, and that’s my momma’s word | |
| Bank account, commas absurd | |
| Cause I sell specialty rap music, And sell out concerts | |
| My favorite spot in the sporting goods, is the hunting section | |
| They got slingshots and crossbows, and other types of weapons | |
| Camouflage vests, and fully stocked with the lead | |
| Next aisle over I can go fishing instead | |
| And to the fake ones, your salaries low | |
| Flow cornier than VH1 romance reality shows | |
| Y’all know, I used the body wash to clean my shotty off | |
| Cause its been catching back splatter from hacking through body parts | |
| [Verse 2: Deacon the Villain] | |
| A southern rebel that’ll leave your vital levels flat | |
| You won’t be hot until you die and give the devil dap | |
| You about as stupid as that pot that called the kettle black | |
| I be conscious rapping but now even Gepetto’s strapped | |
| Here to take the ghetto back, hush the whack stanzas | |
| Taking it back to when rapping was talk ‘tween Black panthers | |
| I’m Huey, Newton or Freeman, all of the above | |
| You ain’t even Huey Lewis, ain’t got no power or love | |
| And what’s sadder, you won’t touch rungs on Jake’s ladder | |
| Universally unworthy of time, space, or matter | |
| You hot as in anger, not as in magma | |
| Deac is Death Valley, You are A-laska | |
| I mastered the range, you mastered the lame | |
| And the day that you’re the flame, I’m the rain | |
| Strange | |
| [Verse 3: Natti] | |
| Big booty twitter vixen this is something tight [hot] | |
| Even make your main chick say she quite [hot] | |
| Some dumb reason say her prison be [hot] | |
| Fell her gaze blazing at you – laser beam [hot] | |
| Face is the bomb: body’s detonator [hot] | |
| We talkin’ black folk filled elevator [hot] | |
| Think its cool now? Fool later see us [hot] | |
| Every time you leave think you out being [hot] | |
| Stick to her, forgettin’ she’s gonna tell you hell is [hot] | |
| And she hope you go in summer when its even more [hot] | |
| Eyes even glowing terminator red [hot] | |
| Shit would be a past red dot beam [hot] | |
| Shoulder so cold make an igloo seem [hot] | |
| Pushing all the buttons make the topic seem [hot] | |
| This gold made cup make us sip so [hot] | |
| [Verse 4: Apathy] | |
| All these girls man they just want to sweat some starve | |
| But I don’t get gassed up like an electric car | |
| And I don’t need a ski mask to rob these bitches of they innocence | |
| About to slip gloves, and seduce seven Russian immigrants | |
| Single moms is so DTF | |
| I hit it, quit it, then report the bitch to DCF | |
| I’m so Bobby Brown, not the new edition days | |
| Never stop my ignorant ways | |
| Not as long as pimpin’ pays Ap's [hot] | |
| [Outro: Natti] | |
| In the Strip Club, All the dancers look [hot] | |
| Damn all the money stickin to ‘em, cause she [hot] | |
| Back sweat make em look [hot] | |
| *Laugh* |
| What is the Question? | |
| Verse 1: Celph Titled | |
| Now when I see the man in the mirror | |
| I see an animal clearer | |
| The teeth look sharp, and and ain' t a man that' s much realer | |
| I do somersaults and flips with nunchucks like a ninja turtle | |
| I' m very bold, I' ll sell crack on an infomercial | |
| I tell you what, if I don' t get the props I deserve | |
| Imma leave you bleeding by the curb, and that' s my momma' s word | |
| Bank account, commas absurd | |
| Cause I sell specialty rap music, And sell out concerts | |
| My favorite spot in the sporting goods, is the hunting section | |
| They got slingshots and crossbows, and other types of weapons | |
| Camouflage vests, and fully stocked with the lead | |
| Next aisle over I can go fishing instead | |
| And to the fake ones, your salaries low | |
| Flow cornier than VH1 romance reality shows | |
| Y' all know, I used the body wash to clean my shotty off | |
| Cause its been catching back splatter from hacking through body parts | |
| Verse 2: Deacon the Villain | |
| A southern rebel that' ll leave your vital levels flat | |
| You won' t be hot until you die and give the devil dap | |
| You about as stupid as that pot that called the kettle black | |
| I be conscious rapping but now even Gepetto' s strapped | |
| Here to take the ghetto back, hush the whack stanzas | |
| Taking it back to when rapping was talk ' tween Black panthers | |
| I' m Huey, Newton or Freeman, all of the above | |
| You ain' t even Huey Lewis, ain' t got no power or love | |
| And what' s sadder, you won' t touch rungs on Jake' s ladder | |
| Universally unworthy of time, space, or matter | |
| You hot as in anger, not as in magma | |
| Deac is Death Valley, You are Alaska | |
| I mastered the range, you mastered the lame | |
| And the day that you' re the flame, I' m the rain | |
| Strange | |
| Verse 3: Natti | |
| Big booty twitter vixen this is something tight hot | |
| Even make your main chick say she quite hot | |
| Some dumb reason say her prison be hot | |
| Fell her gaze blazing at you laser beam hot | |
| Face is the bomb: body' s detonator hot | |
| We talkin' black folk filled elevator hot | |
| Think its cool now? Fool later see us hot | |
| Every time you leave think you out being hot | |
| Stick to her, forgettin' she' s gonna tell you hell is hot | |
| And she hope you go in summer when its even more hot | |
| Eyes even glowing terminator red hot | |
| Shit would be a past red dot beam hot | |
| Shoulder so cold make an igloo seem hot | |
| Pushing all the buttons make the topic seem hot | |
| This gold made cup make us sip so hot | |
| Verse 4: Apathy | |
| All these girls man they just want to sweat some starve | |
| But I don' t get gassed up like an electric car | |
| And I don' t need a ski mask to rob these bitches of they innocence | |
| About to slip gloves, and seduce seven Russian immigrants | |
| Single moms is so DTF | |
| I hit it, quit it, then report the bitch to DCF | |
| I' m so Bobby Brown, not the new edition days | |
| Never stop my ignorant ways | |
| Not as long as pimpin' pays Ap' s hot | |
| Outro: Natti | |
| In the Strip Club, All the dancers look hot | |
| Damn all the money stickin to ' em, cause she hot | |
| Back sweat make em look hot | |
| Laugh |
| What is the Question? | |
| Verse 1: Celph Titled | |
| Now when I see the man in the mirror | |
| I see an animal clearer | |
| The teeth look sharp, and and ain' t a man that' s much realer | |
| I do somersaults and flips with nunchucks like a ninja turtle | |
| I' m very bold, I' ll sell crack on an infomercial | |
| I tell you what, if I don' t get the props I deserve | |
| Imma leave you bleeding by the curb, and that' s my momma' s word | |
| Bank account, commas absurd | |
| Cause I sell specialty rap music, And sell out concerts | |
| My favorite spot in the sporting goods, is the hunting section | |
| They got slingshots and crossbows, and other types of weapons | |
| Camouflage vests, and fully stocked with the lead | |
| Next aisle over I can go fishing instead | |
| And to the fake ones, your salaries low | |
| Flow cornier than VH1 romance reality shows | |
| Y' all know, I used the body wash to clean my shotty off | |
| Cause its been catching back splatter from hacking through body parts | |
| Verse 2: Deacon the Villain | |
| A southern rebel that' ll leave your vital levels flat | |
| You won' t be hot until you die and give the devil dap | |
| You about as stupid as that pot that called the kettle black | |
| I be conscious rapping but now even Gepetto' s strapped | |
| Here to take the ghetto back, hush the whack stanzas | |
| Taking it back to when rapping was talk ' tween Black panthers | |
| I' m Huey, Newton or Freeman, all of the above | |
| You ain' t even Huey Lewis, ain' t got no power or love | |
| And what' s sadder, you won' t touch rungs on Jake' s ladder | |
| Universally unworthy of time, space, or matter | |
| You hot as in anger, not as in magma | |
| Deac is Death Valley, You are Alaska | |
| I mastered the range, you mastered the lame | |
| And the day that you' re the flame, I' m the rain | |
| Strange | |
| Verse 3: Natti | |
| Big booty twitter vixen this is something tight hot | |
| Even make your main chick say she quite hot | |
| Some dumb reason say her prison be hot | |
| Fell her gaze blazing at you laser beam hot | |
| Face is the bomb: body' s detonator hot | |
| We talkin' black folk filled elevator hot | |
| Think its cool now? Fool later see us hot | |
| Every time you leave think you out being hot | |
| Stick to her, forgettin' she' s gonna tell you hell is hot | |
| And she hope you go in summer when its even more hot | |
| Eyes even glowing terminator red hot | |
| Shit would be a past red dot beam hot | |
| Shoulder so cold make an igloo seem hot | |
| Pushing all the buttons make the topic seem hot | |
| This gold made cup make us sip so hot | |
| Verse 4: Apathy | |
| All these girls man they just want to sweat some starve | |
| But I don' t get gassed up like an electric car | |
| And I don' t need a ski mask to rob these bitches of they innocence | |
| About to slip gloves, and seduce seven Russian immigrants | |
| Single moms is so DTF | |
| I hit it, quit it, then report the bitch to DCF | |
| I' m so Bobby Brown, not the new edition days | |
| Never stop my ignorant ways | |
| Not as long as pimpin' pays Ap' s hot | |
| Outro: Natti | |
| In the Strip Club, All the dancers look hot | |
| Damn all the money stickin to ' em, cause she hot | |
| Back sweat make em look hot | |
| Laugh |
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