Freestyle (Track 4) Lyrics

[talking]
Run it, ladies and gentlemen
Pimps hustlas, hoes and gangstas
We wanna welcome y'all out tonight
To these Boyz-N-Blue Outlawz, gangsta party baby
I'm your host for the evening, Killa Kyleon
Hit spinner, Killa all the above
Know I'm saying, got my nigga Rayface behind me
Boys doing this thang, let's go run it uh

[Kyleon]
You might be nice, but I'm a whole lot better dog
You spit like a 22, I spit like a Baretta dog
I got a M-16, and don't work for Mrs. Thing
But when it bust, it'll paint your whole sweater dog
I'm a track rat, looking for the cheddar dog
Get a fine dime, so I can pull it out and let her slob
You niggaz gotta rob, Kyleon make paper
Like a Xerox machine, you niggaz gotta take paper
I fuck bad chicks, y'all gotta date rape her
And I make her have her change her heart, like a pace maker
I'm a cake maker, Pillsbury Dough Boy
So if your do' low, your shit need to grow boy
But why you in them streets, concentrating on getting that first dolla
Killa's in the booth, getting mo' dog
I'm not a hoe dog, by now you should know dog
Instead of keep asking Rayface, can I flow dog
I know you see the badge, looking like a snow ball
Body covered in ice, like I walked through a snow fall
I'm having thangs, like a nigga playing throw ball
But I'm small as fuck, I'm trying to get some mo' dog
It's my time to shine, I just thought I'd show y'all
That I'm first in line, I'm coming befo' y'all
And you wondering why, these people ignore y'all
It's because of my flow, they act like they don't know y'all
My vocabulary's large, and your shit is so small
Your fan base is little, and my shit is so tall
I'm gon end the flow dog, call it quits
You looking for Tha Boss 2, here it is my shit

[Slim Thug]
I'm Slim Thug, for those that don't recognize this voice
And on these underground flows, I'm the people's choice
The chicks tell me when they see me, I make they panties moist
And it ain't got nothing to do, with the blue phantom Rolls Royce
When I pass they ass up, they back-back that ass up
They want the Boss to take they ass home, and smack-smack they ass up
I don't pass they ass up, I snatch-sntach that ass up
I send 'em out to the car, and pack-pack they ass up
Then I take 'em to the pad yeah, do her bad yeah
Hit from the back pull her hair yeah, then I share yeah
I'm a pimp I don't care, yeah I work these hoes
I make these bitches turn tricks, till I hurt these hoes
Now give me lea-way, it's Slim Thee Day
I drop the top on the SL, on the freeway
Do it the G way, smoke till I can't see straight
In the hood I got more customers, than EBay
You know how we play, them Blue Boys out the North
Sir, Killa, C. Ward, Lil Mel and the Boss
Where you at Dirty South, put your hands up
And if you ball like we ball, put your grands up
Eastcoast Westcoast, put your hands up
And if you ball like we ball, put your grands up nigga

[Sir Daily]
It's the Boyz-N-Blue year, in that 0-4
We bust the clock on the game, and leave the sco' so
Yeah hot stats and numbers, spit raps that stun ya
We don't take small bills, bring these stacks in bundles
Pockets swoll and fat, Outlawz underground
Wreck the beat, they think we stole the track
Hoes peeping when I flip, how I control the Lac
Feeling good off the green, cause I blow the sack
Yeah I got them Davin's, windmilling on the freeway
Known to leave a nigga scratched up, like a DJ
So who's tipping, when you see the blue dripping
On buck screens stuck, glock nine Rug' ripping
It's none other than we, showing gloss
When we floss in the drop, or the SUV
Hit that Northside of Houston, I'll let you see
That everything we spit real, when we wrecking these beats