Heat
[Verse 1: Shad]
Yeah, I get it
So I see some artists complain about people all in their (business)
And they go and post twit-pics like it's their (business)
If you go making your business part of your (business)
Well that's a risk and homie risks are part of business
It's shut up or shut down your Instagram account
Cause no one wants to hear us trip about how we're living
It's a different world theme, if you can dish it, you can take it
If you can't, take your dishes out the kitchen I get it
But now you got to blog and tweet if you want to eat
And everybody want to eat, teeth want it sweet though
If it means a lot of beef, then they want to leave
A lot of people want the lead till it's drama on and off the screen
Then they want to be all Wanda Sykes with it
Win it with the comedy, instead of talking honestly
They want to be the champ, they don't even know the Guarneri
Want to be the king like Lebron, but they don't want the heat
[Hook]
Feel the pressures in here
Make the heat like a thermostat
All they do is talk a lot
[Verse 2: Shad]
Keep talking heat, but when it's on they just pass to Wade
Claiming they on the corner shooting like they Battier
It's that or they just rap about fashion, fabrics, and fabricate
Verses sound like an article from Chatelaine, B
I love seeing my people sipping on Cabernets
Blacks with access, and assets and accolades
But tell Obama that a lot of things haven't changed
All the same partying, balling's the same masquerade
We want it hot, love, food, cigarettes, and
We like 'em fast, cars, girls, Internets, and
If you're trying to keep pace then you finna sweat
Can't get in step, can't stop to get into breath
Under pressure, of course they love to press you
When they see dollar signs in your name like you're Ke$ha
Hot yoga, gotta let the heat stretch ya
Or else you go and flex and end up in a stretcher
Yes, sir
[Hook x2]
[Verse 3a: Shad]
I said this life is a hell steps from heaven
Fear is a jail, I'm in a cell next to legends
Tell em what your view through these bars looks like
If you still think there's wrongs that these songs could right
[Verse 3b: Relic]
You let these toys strike first cause they frighten the work
All talk, pull the string on the back of their shirt
Let it go to hear the same robotic manufacture
Rap flow spoken with not a passionate work
Falling back on excuses as a default mode
With broke lines, only Ma Bell'll recall those
Death sentences in your Field of Dreams that got sowed
Its a grim look when you gotta reap all of those
I've seen a lot of writers folding and get licked
They know when we push the envelope and it shows, like Netflix
Yo, Rel' and Shad connect over hot and sour soup, watching hot docs
Relaxin', no sweat, kid
Yeah, I get it
So I see some artists complain about people all in their (business)
And they go and post twit-pics like it's their (business)
If you go making your business part of your (business)
Well that's a risk and homie risks are part of business
It's shut up or shut down your Instagram account
Cause no one wants to hear us trip about how we're living
It's a different world theme, if you can dish it, you can take it
If you can't, take your dishes out the kitchen I get it
But now you got to blog and tweet if you want to eat
And everybody want to eat, teeth want it sweet though
If it means a lot of beef, then they want to leave
A lot of people want the lead till it's drama on and off the screen
Then they want to be all Wanda Sykes with it
Win it with the comedy, instead of talking honestly
They want to be the champ, they don't even know the Guarneri
Want to be the king like Lebron, but they don't want the heat
[Hook]
Feel the pressures in here
Make the heat like a thermostat
All they do is talk a lot
[Verse 2: Shad]
Keep talking heat, but when it's on they just pass to Wade
Claiming they on the corner shooting like they Battier
It's that or they just rap about fashion, fabrics, and fabricate
Verses sound like an article from Chatelaine, B
I love seeing my people sipping on Cabernets
Blacks with access, and assets and accolades
But tell Obama that a lot of things haven't changed
All the same partying, balling's the same masquerade
We want it hot, love, food, cigarettes, and
We like 'em fast, cars, girls, Internets, and
If you're trying to keep pace then you finna sweat
Can't get in step, can't stop to get into breath
Under pressure, of course they love to press you
When they see dollar signs in your name like you're Ke$ha
Hot yoga, gotta let the heat stretch ya
Or else you go and flex and end up in a stretcher
Yes, sir
[Hook x2]
[Verse 3a: Shad]
I said this life is a hell steps from heaven
Fear is a jail, I'm in a cell next to legends
Tell em what your view through these bars looks like
If you still think there's wrongs that these songs could right
[Verse 3b: Relic]
You let these toys strike first cause they frighten the work
All talk, pull the string on the back of their shirt
Let it go to hear the same robotic manufacture
Rap flow spoken with not a passionate work
Falling back on excuses as a default mode
With broke lines, only Ma Bell'll recall those
Death sentences in your Field of Dreams that got sowed
Its a grim look when you gotta reap all of those
I've seen a lot of writers folding and get licked
They know when we push the envelope and it shows, like Netflix
Yo, Rel' and Shad connect over hot and sour soup, watching hot docs
Relaxin', no sweat, kid