Summer time makes, phony niggas heated/
my bat they eat it, i swing like sosa they end up beated/
but the most real heat, is created in the oven/
so i always visit the kitchen, to cook ribs often/
boilin their veins molten, realize there's no token/
to ride the train to heaven, but for me the gate's broken/
i get a free pass, like Kelis said to NaS, but for now im woken/
the stove leaves their body soakin, with natural juice nigga's heart is open.