(*talking*)
Yeah, these niggas 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 niggas 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 niggas 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 niggas 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 beat
