| Yeah… hahahaha
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| Bars of Death, Vinyl Thug Music, all that good shit.
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| Bring in the drums!
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| We got comin to the ring tonight (bring him out son)
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| The undisputed heavyweight champ (bring him out son!)
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| Twenty-five and oh, 25 by knockout motherfucker
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| It’s my boy Esoteric, say somethin
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| For my soldier to spit the sick, the lunatic
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| Military drum, bust through lungs, that sound like guns
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| I roll up, on dirt balls like a dustpan
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| Have 'em hiding in their own city like that Cubs fan
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| It’s true, Sea changed, the man is berzerk
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| Make like Pedro and throw your manager in the dirt
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| Yo the fire never died, it just burned inside me
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| Saw «Kill Bill,» now I’m filming «Kill Bill O’Reilly»
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| F’real, I feel, I deserve a badge of honor
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| For rippin asses block to block like Cappadonna
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| My flow be like water dog, inflating the pockets
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| And like sick fans, stores ain’t afraid to stock it/stalk it
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| I’m still hungry, plus original
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| The only bars that I bite are made of chocolate
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| Es-trogen make y’all extra femme
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| Spittin two hot lines but the rest is phlegm
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| 7L, E-S, got that special blend
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| Rock buttons up, not from Express for Men
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| Put the mic down — that’s what we recommend
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| Design the rhyme with the mind/mine y’all blessed with gems
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| Aiyyo break 'em (bust 'em) kill 'em (crush 'em)
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| Y’all ain’t built for this rap shit (fuck 'em)
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| Y’all get killed for that madness (true)
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| The time is now, the boondocks comin through
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| Cats say they bust clips in the whip when they floss
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| Only time they blast heat’s when they hit the defrost
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| Facin Es, you know that make no sense
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| Like the Celts tradings Antoine for Raef LaFrentz
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| I spit an avalanche of images, river of blood
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| Women in tubs, sippin bub, peep a sinister mug
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| They selling 12 step therapies, under the assumption
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| My function’s to operate on fear and consumption
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| But, I get daps when I spit my rap
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| With more Pats on my back than New England sacks
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| You say you «Die Hard» just like that famous actor
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| But couldn’t do it if you overdosed on Viagra
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| You’re no factor, you work for free and fail
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| While I’m paid to be outstanding like police on detail
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| Think about it while the competition plummet
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| I kill for the sport like hunting on a full stomach
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| Oh shit! |
| He’s done ladies and gentlemen
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| First round, knockout, knock out motherfuckers flat on the floor
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| Didn’t I tell you? |
| This shit is crazy son, crazy son!
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| Esoteric, 7L, Bars of Death
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| This shit is a wrap money, it’s a wrap! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Knockout (Victory Lap) , by - 7L & Esoteric. Song from the album Moment Of Rarities, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп