You’re my bellyring, I’m your soulpatch.

We go together like, my van spinning on

Chrome, baby. You, plus me, equals hot.

 

Don’t play moi for no fool, cuz, baby, do

that and you’re playing with fire–so hot!

Don’t burn yourself now, so play careful.

 

Baby, at night, you know I dream of you.

You know I see us 2 riding through town,

With my man patch blowin’ in the winds,

Your belly chrome dancin’ in the hot sun.

 

Damn, baby, this shit is fire—so hot, hot!

 

Baby, you know I got my reputation, you

Know I run with a dangerous crowd: The

Hots. You know I am bad to the marrow,

I’m the baddest hot boy in this hot town.

 

Damn, baby, this shit is fire—so hot, hot!

 

Don’t listen to any of them rumors, baby,

Cuz they ain’t true; it’s bullshit spread by

Mr Cool of the Igloo Boys, all Hot haters.

 

You’re my low-risers, I’m your ass-tattoo.

We are so hot, we combust when we hold

Hands–literally the shit happens. That hot.