HotBox Lyrics

Whipping in the city with the indie rolling out

Tryna clear my head cause the voices screaming loud

Weight on my back, I can feel it pound for pound

Rolling up some jays tryna kill this fucking ounce

Eyes turning red, feeling like the devil now

Silver on my teeth, you can call me metal mouth

Smoking on some death, take it straight to the head

Eyes on the road, watching out for the feds

Chilling in the hot box

Demons with them hot chops

Always rolling loud when I'm cruising in the drop top

Times slowing down like someone made the clocks stop

Pack full of hounds, always down to make an op drop

Licks on the town, got me feeling like a chop shop

Smoking by the pound really helps with the Shell shock

Smoke all around hearing coughing in the hot box

Hells where I'm bound and the devil got my cell locked

Blunts in rotation, you tell that I'm faded

Smoking on the ops, and they still fucking hating

Calling me a fake, but you the one who faking

Always being real, strayed away from the basics

Envy in your heart be the reason that you hate me

Swerving on the road and I'm not even racing

Zooted in a ghost you call me Johnny blazing

Smoke from the blunt got me feeling little hazy

Trauma from the past be the same shit that made me

Bitch, I'm on my own and that shit'll make you crazy

I'm just doing me I can never be complacent

You can find a clone but never gone replace me