[Verse 1: Juvenile, Lil Wayne & Turk]
What kinda n***a that'll go and score
A '98, a '99 off the show room floor?
What? What kinda n***a young, sittin' on chrome?
Got three or four cars ready to get his shine on?
N***a—what kinda n***a leave ya [?] and give a fuck?
Big nuts and big heart from the start?
What kinda n***a stay shinin' and ride fly?
What kinda n***a be bumpin' in drive-bys?
Look, look—what kinda n***a be burning like a stove?
Worth six figures, hot, walkin' on gold?
What? What kinda n***as kill n***as in black clothes?
Street-smart and play the game how it goes?
Ah, ah, what kinda n***a be driving these hoes crazy?
Claimin' that they pregnant, wanna be his ol' lady
Uh, uh—what kinda n***a be sparklin' like silver?
Lil' bitty soldier thuggin', playing with a million?
Now, what kinda n***as tote chops and ride hot?
Huntin' n***as down up and down they fucking block?

[Chorus: Hot Boys]
The Hot Boys, the Hot Boys (Them n***as is the—)
Hot Boys, the Hot Boys
The Hot Boys, the Hot Boys (Them n***as is the—)
Hot Boys, the Hot Boys
[Verse 2: Juvenile, Lil Wayne & Turk]
What kinda n***a don't give a fuck who you is?
Disrespectin' his mind, you jeopardizin' your kids
Yeah, what kinda n***a run with nothing but head-busters?
Riding at night, hitting like a Louisville slugger?
Lil' mama—what kinda n***a sport soldiers and 'bauds?
Pimp n***as—and fuck hoes?
What kinda n***a be duckin' the ATF?
Look, what kinda n***a got clientele in the 'jects?
Well, what kinda n***a play beef like a pro?
Keep enemies close and blaze like an optimo?
N***a—what kinda n***as be sharp off the top?
Drive Benz and like diamonds that shine?
Ah, ah—what kinda n***a put his name on the blimps?
Whoadie, what kinda n***a make your whole life frightenin'?
Setting it off with 50 shots, strikin' like lightenin'?
Ha—what kinda n***as run through ports with keys?
Getting paid seven days a week making Gs?

[Chorus: Hot Boys]
The Hot Boys, the Hot Boys (Them n***as is the—)
Hot Boys, the Hot Boys
The Hot Boys, the Hot Boys (Them n***as is the—)
Hot Boys, the Hot Boys

[Verse 3: Juvenile, Lil Wayne & Turk]
N***a, what kinda n***a got this shit under control?
What kinda n***a stash his bundle in his 'bauds?
Now, hold up—what kinda n***a got them skanks?
Sayin' he got that fire?
Now—what kinda n***a clip tight with his click?
Paper chasing and smack a piss out a bitch?
Whoadie—what kinda n***a you hear about but don't see?
What kinda n***a go to war like the Middle East?
Say [?], what kinda n***a make his tramp stay in line
And can bruise your lil' twat at the, uh, same time?
Say, dog—what kinda n***a be thuggin', lettin' 'em sag?
Gettin' loaded, fully loaded of dime bags?
What kinda n***a do crime and serve time?
What kinda n***a ride keys and serve dimes?
Just what kinda n***a be on top?
Lil' girls respect his mind and he too, too hot
Now, now—what kinda n***as be famous living rich?
Tossing hoes, having bitches sucking his dick?
[Chorus: Hot Boys]
The Hot Boys, the Hot Boys (Them n***as is the—)
Hot Boys, the Hot Boys
The Hot Boys, the Hot Boys (Them n***as is the—)
Hot Boys, the Hot Boys