Freestyle (Track 4)

(*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 niggas gotta rob, Kyleon make paper Like a Xerox machine, you niggas 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