Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
We talkin' 'bout

Hot times, runnin' through ya city
If you miss it now it'll sho' be a pity
We got Hot times, runnin' through ya city

I ain't no thug son, my name is Plug Won
I drop a certified gem for him and her
Rockin' on your radio like the Crash Crew
Ask whoever you want, I'm managin' the funk on the paper
Outside of that we pull capers for days
Ridin throughout the maze of street while we blaze the beat
Watchin' the sweet things wiggle they butt
To Plug Three, on the cut, movin' on ya whatever ya got
We gon' get, bringin' our point to ya position
Rippin' stages with my thought coalition
Carryin' on, eradicate all your stress mode
Just another episode through these area codes
We bankin' on

Hot times, runnin' through ya city
If you miss it now it'll sho' be a pity
We got Hot times, runnin' through ya city
Hmm

It's the hotness, talked about but never seen
Like the Loch-Ness, 'til ya cop this drop it inside your vein
And like a train, we be runnin' throughout your legs and arms
You're high off our talent and charm
Check the caliber this be a smash
Like some food on stage for Gallagher
Wear ya bib 'cause it's messy
Niggas schemin' on "my girl as if my name was Jesse
Watch your manners, now let me pass it off to Dave Banner

Yo, I set travels like Karen LaRue
Small talkin' in the big city, it's all about gettin' the coins
Everywhere I go I touch a tenderloin
They sportin' a dot com Viet marker bomb
On your metro, MARTA order iron horse
Yo take the cross and meet a nigga at the butcher
I'm cuttin' your girl, we on a world tour
Supplyin' your bloodstream with nothin' but the pure uncut in ya

Hot times, runnin' through ya city
If you miss it now it'll sho' be a pity
We got Hot times, runnin' through ya city
Mmh

Freak, freak, freak, freak
The funk, the funk, the funk, the funk, funk, freak (yeah)
Freak, the freak, the freak, the freak, the freak
Freak, freak, the funk, freak, freak, the funk

We ain't walkin' on a yellow brick road
These streets stay' red and bloodym kid
Study your code so you can easily pass
I stash a little love when I'm on the visitation
If you crossin' my line, nigga, do the same
I'm guaranteed to run through and prove the game
Ain't bigger than the pieces in it
You see the pieces in it had me stuck travelin' one side of map
Clappin' hands with rap cats who ain't deserve dap
Long hauls and livin' out a suitcase, man
Chickenheads and gangs of fruitcakes, man
Ain't nothin' better than explorin' the outskirts
Especially when she ain't got no pantyhose on and it's on

Hot times, runnin' through ya city
If you miss it now it'll sho' be a pity
We got Hot times, runnin' through ya city
Mmh
Hot times, runnin' through ya city
If you miss it now it'll sho' be a pity
We got Hot times, runnin' through ya city
Mmh

Yo, it's like, the Mercenary gettin' down (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)
And we got, Dave Banner gettin' down
And we got, Maseo gettin' down (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)
And of course, my nigga Eno gettin' down
And we got, Jay Dee gettin' down (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh) (say word, y'all)
And of course, the Slum V gettin' down
And we got my man Khrist gettin' down (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)
And we got, Com Sense gettin' down
And we got, N.D. Gettin' down (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)
You know Troy Hightower gettin' down
And we got, C. Smith gettin' down (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)
And my nigga, Dave West gettin' down
And we got Mr. Man gettin' down (come on, come on, what you doin' me?)
Yeah, come on

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): David Jolicoeur, James Dewitt Yancey, John Sebastian, Kelvin Mercer, Mark Sebastian, Steve Boone, Vincent Mason