[talking:] Yeah, these niggaz ain't fucking with me (yeah) They know that by now though Rayface, (yeah) Run it nigga (oops), Kyleon (yeah) Killa Kyleon, for those that don't know (yeah) All Freestyles 3, the truth is in the booth cocksuckers
[Kyleon:] I guess, they didn't expect this To hear a nigga that's reckless, coming from Texas Make a false move, I'm putting a gun to your necklace Better step up your game, and get it back in perspective Didn't boys tell you, I'm the wrong nigga to mess with I got a mean track record, your ass shoulda checked it Like a virus on tracks, I'ma finna infect this Let me put it in lane terms, Kyleon finna wreck this Everything I spit's a hit, you better collect it Go work on your raps, try to perfect it I'm the nigga you jamming, when haters try to eject it But I'm jamming so hard, they can't even try to neglect it By your favorite rapper in Houston, I'm highly respected While your shit's weak in the streets, highly rejected Be careful, Kyleon's the wrong nigga to plex with You don't wanna get your neck hit, soon as the tech spit I got a nice aim without thangs, it's a direct hit The game's prolly full of traffic, I'm finna direct it With hard flows, no whip I'm not fin to pyrex it Knocking niggaz out the game mayn, they ass finna get sick
[Slim Thug:] Slim usually the nigga, cats shoot they down low caps at But you ain't never hear me, shoot no down low caps back I'll call you out say your name, and see where your raps at Bring the street to your streets, and see where your straps at Boys better get a map, and see where the North of the map at Cause I ain't hard to find, nigga that's where I rap at That's where I shine where I grind, that's where I stack at I keep it popping in the hood, like I'm a black cat Me and Killa bout scrilla, them other niggaz lack that They'd rather chase hoes, so they can pay to go pack that That's why I sick these hoes on em, so I can get back that Slim a hundred percent hustler, these other suckers act that I keep a glock on me, matter fact Killa pack that You suckers get out of line, he gon rat-a-tat that I'm not Lil' O or Big H.A.W.K., but I need you to back-back And give me fifty feet, 'fore I blow you hoes hat back
[Sir Daily:] Cause Outalwz spit bars, that'll scar the track up Pull out the ESV, and make you park the Lac truck You niggaz broke, I'm on the grind to stack bucks Rolling with my gat tucked, cold as Alaska From the ice in my jewels, rims slice when I cruise On top up in this game, I paid the price for my dues So these Hogga, fin to step on toes Treat a mic like a bitch, when we wreck our flows Watch for rocks, my neck all froze I ball 24/7, off the checks I blow So don't think, that I'm easy prey I might pull a K out, squeeze and spray You flat line, if you trying to jack mine Clinch and bust the Mack rounds, bet you haters back down It's rag time, so you fin's to go to sleep I drop bombs on the track, Daily fin's to blow the beatTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
