"So hot.. I'm burnin up" (4X) 
 [J. Mega] 
 Who got ya? With flows like aqua 
 Mega ?? sit the imposter, bound to prosper 
 Hits we got a lot-a, sippin on straight vodka, puffin chaka 
 Lust to conquer, nigga, I'ma monster 
 Call me Ontra for short, I'm confident 
 As far as this, nice no arguments 
 Rock garments, raw contents 
 Its obvious, we about to cop cars from this 
 Rock continents, money over margin and the consequence 
 Niggas never starve again, its marvelous 
 Be a heart-throb with chicks 
 The drama shit, y'all niggas hate 
 But I'ma do my thing, to beat fate 
 Ten-room joint, leave your name at the gate 
 Gold brunches at one G a plate 
 Chorus 
 [Greg Valentine] 
 Yo; I'm on the rise like hot air 
 It don't stop there, so popular I glare 
 Hoes stop to stare, they volunteer 
 To come out of their underwear 
 For this debonair, nigga with millionaire flair 
 Are you through fuckin with them lame-ass queers? 
 Ya need for a true baller severe 
 In my wardrobe, there's Cartier 
 Pierre Cardans on my Cardigans 
 Black sedans, in the summer the sports coupe 
 Master plan for a brother to score loot 
 Goin all out pursuit for a house on the hill 
 I conjure up a thousand ways to make me a mill 
 I don't give a fuck if time sits still, I keep strivin 
 European cars I'm drivin 
 Top of the line shit, six V-12's and better 
 My people got their shit together, lets get this cheddar 
 Chorus 
 [J. Mega] 
 B-K baby, all the way baby 
 Mixin Hennesey with the Alizay baby 
 G.V. baby, Larry, baby. Don't swing the air thing, gravy, baby 
 For instincts, every joint gainin interest 
 From the entrance, we came different 
 Now every whip come with gloss, fully tinted 
 Went from wishes to paid expenses 
 Six digits, the way we roll tremendous 
 Sip Guinness, Brooklyn dukes, no gimics 
 Just vintage rap shit, beyond the limits 
 Lips splendid, money comes I spend it 
 You want in, dukes? I got you in a minute 
 [Greg Valentine] 
 Yo, yo; we some slick talkin, New Yorkin 
 Quick walkin, chicks hawkin, pumpin our's in they walkmans 
 Often, sex women in the loft and show them hoes whose boss 
 And pussy scorchin; flossin, like fight night in Vegas 
 Ice sparklin like Sammy Davis 
 Some praise us, others player-hate us 
 Jealous niggas, the hell with you niggas 
 Chorus