Instrumente
Ensembles
Genres
Komponiste
Presteerders

Lirieke: Boss Hogg Outlawz. Presidential Flow.

[Intro - Slim Thug]
Yeah, Slim Thugger
Killa Kyleon
C. Ward
PJ, Daily
We the boys in blue

[Slim Thug]
Yeah we stacking that green, naw mean?
Big Boss and that Outlaw team
Pulling up clean, blue with the screens
Niggas ain't seen, another crew this mean
Take it back to the North, back with the Boss
Been wrecking decks, since back at the house
Haters disrespect, getting smacked in the mouth
Niggas play hard, but they acting they soft
How we ride? With the steel
Fuck with us, and you going to get killed
From the land of the trill, yeah we represent the Tex'
Don't bar plex, come playing get checked
Get your hoe ass wrecked, trying to bring it to the Boss
I'll get your ass done, it don't matter what it cost
We floss that blue, do it for the crew
Old school Caddy, or the new slabs too
Paul Wall what it do? Who Mike Jones?
Boys mad at us, because we getting our shine on
Put it in they face, put them in they place
Got to let them know, who the leaders of the race
Boss Hogg Outlawz, stacking that change
Jackers be aware, we packing that thing
Run your ass up, and I'ma rat-a-tat mane
I ain't playing no games, I'ma aim for the brain

[PJ]
It's PJ, the rap hustler
Going off, on these player hating suckers
I'm from the North, side of town
Boys about it over here, we on the grind
I came up, it feel good
Ain't a damn thing changed, I'm still hood
Boss Hogg, Outlawz
Fake niggas put your back against the wall
Doing shows, pimping hoes
Pulling out, on a glass set of 4's
What we ride? That blue
What we bang? That screw
Big piece, full of ice
Boyz in Blue, nothing nice
I go off, I go hard
It's whatever, whatever, I don't bar

[Sir Daily]
Here come Daily, in that wide frame thing
Sliding down the block, with a fine dime mane
Times ain't changed, so these chickens still clocking dollars
But I tell them what I'm about, hit the twat and holler

I'm a Boss Hogg nigga, we all of that
One hitter quitter nigga, who don't call them back
And when they see me, they be like "Daily you wrong for that"
Because he don't speak, he just say move along get back
That's my team, on the scene
On glass, with the screens looking clean
On dro, with the lean
Boss Hogg Outlawz, the number one team

[Chris Ward]
I'm C-Wiggy, my flow be jiggy
These niggas mad at me, just because they girls dig me
I got so many clothes, I dress fresher than most hoes
So many shoes, I give Michael Jordan the blues
So many furs, some his and some hers
I do what I does, because I does what I do
I pop tags like trunks on slabs
Peel back tops like unhealed scabs
Throwing up the deuce, and giving real niggas daps
If haters run up, then them punks can catch jabs
(C. Ward you so ghetto) My nigga that's the truth
(And why's that hole in your car?) My nigga, that's the roof
(And why my ears keep ringing?) My nigga, that's them speakers
(Why you got mirrors on your tires?) My nigga, that's them sneakers
(And why your car look like a serpent?) My nigga, that's that paint
(And why's it foggy inside?) My nigga, that's that stank
You see these major, labels want me worse than the FEDS
Because my flows feed niggas like jail house spreads
These hoes call me Simon because they do what I says
Plus I got my money long like Jamaican dreads
I'm Chris Wizzard, I go so hizzard
Stay away from phonies, fakers, haters and frizzauds
Rappers mad at me because my flow is like a retard
But really I think, it's because I done cut up they brizzoads

[Killa Kyleon]
I'm the MVP, Kyleon the one
It's Outlaw Season, Kyleon LeBron
Badge on my neck, just shining like the sun
Put the heat to the sheet, and cook a beat till it's done
I get paid when I rap, this not a freestyle bro
I got a paid style, not a freestyle flow
Ten three for the show, fifteen for the flow
And another fifteen if you want to scope blow
I got bills, got drank, and a connect on the dro
That's why the diamond chain, look like a neck full of snow
In a wide body 'Lac, and I'm next to your hoe
With her head in my lap, and she pecking me slow
Got the pop trunk glowing, and the bumper kit hung
Ice pack on my wrist, like a nigga shit's sprung
Somebody call lost and found, because my top missing
I done made it disappear, just like a magician
Killa