Ho, ho
Bounce
Holla
Bounce, bounce, bounce

It's B. Sig' in the place with Young Free (Free, Sigel)
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right
Still watch what you say out your mouth
'Cause 50 shots still will turn the club out

I miss the hood when I'm travelin' (uh)
Get neck when I'm travelin'
Chicks peck wood when I'm travelin'
Fuck a Lex 'cause the click fit good in the Caravan
Slide through your hood like a avalanche
Take a flick if you get a chance, get that close
Fuck an advance, 'cause I get that dough
Beef with me, enemies come sleep with me
For breakfast, guaranteed to eat this toast
I'm reckless, firestarter heat your folks
A starvin artist that'll eat y'all tracks, so don't bring 'em around
I be around Ricans, vida loca
They got all the toasters, don't need no gats
I got a six stashed, leave 'em around
So I don't get left around haters around when I leave
In the winter rock short sleeves, reason? The pound
With the heat blastin', keep actin' the heat blastin'
Techno-Marine shinin', marine fashion backin' 'em down
Niggas gon' keep hatin' and my clique gon' keep grindin'
Keep movin', lockin' the town

It's Freeway in the place to be, see
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say to me, prick
'Cause I got what it takes to dump the AK clip

It's B. Sig' in the place with Young Free
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say out your mouth
'Cause 50 shots still will turn the club out (ho)

It's Mack daddy, young, scrappy (uh)
No, he ain't the OG gangsta (yes, I is)
Come on, don't test I kid
I firebomb cribs like Left Eye did
Notorious like that Bed-Stuy kid, big or small, you can get it
Dead wrong, like tryin' to brawl or strong-arm a midget, uh
I pull the 9 out my pocket, I'm lyin
I pull the MAC out the closet, start firin'
For you cats outta pocket, stop tryin'
Take that, get back, clap iron
You know, stay low, keep firin', uh
I put the lead in the gat, the metal go clap
I lay cats flat on they back, stop fuckin' with this radical cat
You fuck around and need a medical cap
The lead'll go clap, your head'll go back, uh
It's B. Sig' in the place to be
With two heaters on the waist of me, man, who facin' me?

It's B. Sig' in the place with Young Free
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say out your mouth
'Cause 50 shots still will turn the club out (ho)

It's Freeway in the place to be, see
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say to me, prick
'Cause I got what it takes to dump the AK clip

Big nickels down your way, don't trip
Get folded down your way, got soldiers down your way
Keep quiet down your way, no lip
All of y'all need to run yourselves
Go get the burner, nigga, bang yourself
Or I come through with the hammer make you lose your health
Fast, roll with Dash, us move like Cassius Clay
Move yay like caskets, where there's a will there's a way
Obey my thirst, move yay through traffic
Without Sprite, without Nike's
I just do it, ball break your basket
Yeah, you damn right, without ice
I pull up, pull your honey car, stuff her basket
International post player, circle the atlas
You don't want to be ho players, circle the hood
Bend over backwards when I search 'em for Backwoods

This is Freeway in the place to be, see
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say to me, prick
'Cause I got what it takes to dump the AK clip

It's B. Sig' in the place with Young Free
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say out your mouth
'Cause 50 shots still will turn the club out (ho)

It's Freeway in the place to be, see
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say to me, prick
'Cause I got what it takes to dump the AK clip

It's B. Sig' in the place with Young Free
And I got what it takes to rock the mic right, yeah
Still watch what you say out your mouth
'Cause 50 shots still will turn the club out (ho)

All of y'all need to run yourselves
Go get the burner, nigga, bang yourself
All of y'all need to run yourselves
Go get the burner, nigga, bang yourself

Ch'yeah, ch'yea, it's the, it's the Roc, nigga
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho
And another one, and another one
All of y'all need to run yourselves
Go get the burner, nigga, bang yourself

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Dwight Grant, Justin Gregory Smith, Leslie Pridgen