Boss Hogg Outlawz - I'm Fresh lyrics

rate me

Yeah, Young Black in the mo'fucking building nigga

Boss Hogg Outlawz what it is, this one here for all my slab riders

Pull your drop out, show these boys how we hold down South

Know I'm saying H-Town what it do, swanging and swerving and shit ay

I got the cockpit smoked out, 84's poked out

Young Black leaning, with the Gucci shades loc'd out

Drop top vogues, on European grill

Swing right break em at the light, recline my fifth wheel

It's falling like Alicia Keys, pick it up like pieces

On old school Chevrolets, Impalas and Caprices

I can't forget the Lacs, with the wood leather steering wheel

Candy paint frame, dripping stains off Sedan Devilles

I'm in my candy world, riding in my candy girl

Holla at J-Woo, let him hit me with a candy pearl

Tipping on them thangs, with the buckles on the trunk

Pumping old school E.S.G., Ocean of Funk

I'm swanging and banging, breaking off the intersection

Crossing, showing the whole world how we flossing

Yeah, ery'body claim they slab is the best

Pull up beside me put your slab to the test, if nothing less

I'm fresh (so fresh), in my slab so clean

Smell like a pound, of that mean joe green

Gorillas in the trunk, beating out your ass

Candy paint frame, swang down on glass

Stay flyer, than a mo'fucker

On that dro, I stay higher than a mo'fucker

In my slab crooked, on cloud nine

Till my frame touch down, on that I-4-5

Like a G I ride, one hand on my wood

Top down getting brain, like a real nigga should

As I flip through the hood, I let the boppers see my fo's twist

Lift up the do's on them hoes, leave em so sick

No shit, I'm cleaner than the White House

Beat down your block like thunder, and cut your lights off

I'm iced out, from my wrist to my mouth

To show these boys how we hold down South, I'm tal'n bout

From the grill to the ring, the the piece to the chain

The crib to the car, the wheels to the paint

Yeah, ery'body claim they slab is the best

Pull up beside me put your slab to the test, if nothing less

I do it, for the whole hood

Cause coming down on that candy, be feeling so good

I got my pistol, tucked up under my seat

Cause real G's don't ride 3's, unless they holding the heat

And Reggie rolling the sweet, we tipping swangs through the city

Diamonds shining and tops reclining, candy paint looking pretty

That's how we do in the South, I know you boys can't understand

How I chop the block the bops come out the spot, and wave they hand

I'm the man with the killer paint, the man with the killer flow

The man with this killer jump, Cadillac on them 84's

You mad but keep hating though, you making my shine brighter

The homies still downloading, my shit off of Limewire

With glass and them vogue tires, I'm coasting the Interstate

Don't frown and just smiling, bout all this paper I'm finna make

Yeah, ery'body claim they slab is the best

Pull up beside me put your slab to the test, if nothing less