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[talking:] Jiggy check, Boyz N' Blue Exclusive shit freestyle, I'm C. Wigga Ya know ay, you wanna see my what Uh yeah uh say, look out [Chris Ward:] I ain't got a grill lil' ma, I got some chains I got a mill lil' ma, but I got some change I'm so fresh, so motherfucking clean Make the scene, look like it done goggled some Listerine This all the time, everytime with me They call me C dot W-A-R-D You see I'm some'ing like a playa, some'ing like G And I bet some'ing on some'ing, you ain't nothing like me I wreck the flow, whenever I feel like I go hard, just like I'm a steel pipe I bring the pain, bring the game I changed the game, I changed the frame I pull up in that wide frame, dropping the top If I'm not I'm in a old school, hopping the hop Making it jump making it drop, making it flip Making it flop, making them 84's wop Making them vogues hop, up and down the boulevard It's that nigga still dranked out, and I'm full of 'Nod With PJ, Sir Daily and Slim Thee SongtexteKilla Kyleon, is right behind we In the, CTS My nigga D-1 behind him, in that new DTS we fresh [talking:] Like that nigga, Outlaw Season We flyer, than a motherfucker It's your nigga, Sir Daily baby [Sir Daily:] Hop in on the flow, and I wreck the beat Come through looking good, and I'm on a sweet And a cold cup, and you know it's muddy Northside Houston Texas, yup them my buddies Them my dogs, in them what L-dogs Coming through the parking lot, working wood log Top drop top tossing, the trunk pop Everything looking good, rims don't stop Grill looking icy, chain is too Coming through the damn lane, leaving it blue On them swangs too, maybe 24's Got plenty money, got plenty hoes Pass em round through the click, let my boys fuck I ain't even tripping, plenty noise in my truck Got bang got ice grill, ice chain Pockets looking swolled, Daily got's to do my thang On the flow, I'ma just do the what thang I ain't even tripping, might have to move the caine In the trap, I'ma break the rap Nigga talk shit, I'ma pull a strap Click-clack, like my nigga Slim Thugga I'ma burn rubber, 24 inch cutters Never stutter, I got's to go long Break the microphone, my voice going strong I ain't tripping, big drank sipping Lane to lane switching, I'm grain gripping Off the dome, got's to go long PJ backdo' me, I'm off the microphone [PJ:] It's P, to the motherfucking J Catch me in the kitchen, and I'm cooking up the yay It's that work, it's that boy Purt When I pull up in some'ing good, I got's to hurt Yes I'm dripping candy, boys don't understand me Might ride down Little York, banging Brandy Banging some'ing hard, no I don't bar It's the PJ, and I'm far from a fraud Boss Hogg Outlawz, Boyz N' Blue click Got's to come through, in a what type whip That's the what car, sipping on bar In my what hood, I'm a ghetto superstar Hogging shining, diamonds be blinding When I'm coming through, yes I keep my hoes minding Yes I got hoes, might ride 4's Got's to come through, keep the crease in my clothes Roc-A-Wear pants, Roc-A-Wear shirt Catch me in my hood, and I'm putting in work I might sell X, I might sell drank Might cash a check, go 'head to the bank Cash what the profit, no I can't stop it Might hit a switch, hell yeah I'ma drop it Drop it on a slab, giving boys dab Back in the game, Purt use to call cabs Now I'm riding chrome, out the Acres Home Hop on the mic, gon get my flow on Going off the dome, yes I go long It's that PJ, hollin' at that damn whoadie out the Stone Them my damn dogs, out the motherfucking click Boss Hogg Outlawz, yeah we getting rich I ain't playing, no fucking games Catch you what talking down, going for your brain I'ma what aim, I'ma aim the glock Bust me a shot, now your ass out Bring the yellow tape, the track got raped It's the PJ, I know these boys gon hate I know they talking down, but I'ma what shine I'ma come through, get the shit up off my mind Stack my feddy, yes I'm ready I ain't even tripping, on the flow I'm deadly I can what wreck, I can what preach I ain't even tripping, yeah pull out the sweep That's the streetsweeper, late night creeper Back in the game, use to have the damn beeper [Kyleon:] Use to have the beeper, flows like either I'm hot Get out of line, boys finna get shot With the glock, that's my damn nina It's the boy Kyleon, I stay's mo' cleaner Evesal on my ass, might be in white T Looking at my feet, I see the Air Force Ones fucking Nike Means they like me, but I'm not a Franchise Boy Killa Kyleon, I'm the real deal McCoy Holla at my boy, that's the damn whoadie Looking at the time, I see platinum eyes Roley Holla at the Eat Em boys, out the Acres Home It's the boy Killa, and I'm riding on chrome Got's to go long, got's to just wreck it Not 9-6, I ain't finna show my naked Putting on my clothes, I'm putting red monkey It's the boy Killa, I'm a freestyle junkie Holla, at the fucking PJ Might see me and my dog, on the damn freeway In the GT, that's the Bentley Coupe Smelling like jook, got's to say oops Cause I might fall off, no sir I'm not having it Get the microphone, Kyleon's gon grabbing it Looking at the cabinet, hold up man I done fucked up Damn, I done fucked up [Slim Thug:] Boy done fucked up, go on 'head pass the flow Grab the microphone, let the Boss Man go Gon talk shit, don't love a bitch Boss Hogg Outlawz, yeah that's the click It's Outlaw season, haters stop breathing I'ma bust the tech, till you haters get to leaving Leaving the earth, been a baller since birth Gotta shoot the deuce, to the C and the Purt And my nigga Killa, can't forget about the Dai' Every Sunday, we at the park is how we play With the trunk open, yellow hoes scoping I'ma swang the swangs, till the swangs get broken H-Town repping, high steaks stepping Coming through the boulevard, Boss Hogg repping Representing the click, leaving boys sick Bitches on dick, cause a nigga got rich Got a lot of paper, you can't fuck with me If you got a problem with the Boss, come get me Quit all the talking, start with the walking I'ma l-leave these boys dead, wrapped in chalk'n Cause I ain't playing, Northside staying Been the first nigga, with the grill and you know what I'm saying In the Tex, invisible set cut I don't give a fuck, bout a motherfucking slut Keep a bitch with a big fat butt, on my side When I ride through the North, South or Eastside Can't forget about the West, keep a hundred thousand on my chest Don't bar plex, and I represent the Tex If you niggaz disrespect, you get killed All about getting my fucking paper, yeah the scrill Stay dollar bills, stay up in my pocket When you see the Boss riding clean, you can't knock it Got up on my hustle, got up on my grind When I hit the H-Town streets, yeah I shine Shutting boys down, been doing it for a couple years Man them haters see me man, I make em wanna cry tears Cause a nigga, looking good Representing for the Homestead, that's the hood All the way over, to the motherfucking Acres Had to show them boys, Northside stacking paper Never been a bitch, never been a hoe Grab the microphone, I'm a freestyle pro All about the do', can't spit shit so-so Riding on fo' 4's, hell yeah I'm bl-blowing on the dro Gotta, keep it lit When them hoes see me, hell yeah I'm the shit Dropping bumper kits, when I pull up on the scene Might ride blue, or I might ride gleam fuck [talking:] Come on with it G Give it to me again dog, I'm fucked up Aus Songtexte Mania