Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Knuckle Puck , by - Soul Khan. Release date: 15.11.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Knuckle Puck |
| My man J-57 is like two 40's deep right now |
| He made a fly beat |
| So Koncept, show them how its done |
| I see your team is asleep, but sleep is seeming to be |
| Keeps em' reaching for dreams till I defeat em' in speech |
| We be speaking emcees and being free is a need |
| I see a reason preaching like they was teaching to me |
| 2010 run events, nothing less than sold out |
| Moneys spent to run again, tell your friends to go now |
| Updating statuses, upgrade your caliber |
| Hold weight in your own hand no chance to flatter us |
| It’s make it and taking it I’m greedy with the whole stash |
| Can’t recycle flows, I believe it’s what we call trash |
| Hockey puck knuckle punch evacuate the premises |
| Always has to happen drinking Jack in great measurements |
| Slap shots, break glass, should of worn your face mask |
| You skating pacing on the ring, I’m bringing what you lames lack |
| Hmmm, just the face off a stick to your abdomen |
| Have to set the fight the degree that we master in |
| I asked my man Homeboy Sandman for some hotness |
| He delivered a supernova |
| Good lord sandman, Kill em' |
| Let’s go |
| Live from the dead of the winter with no coat and no skully |
| Here’s one verse you can take personally |
| Get served, no shoes, no shirt, no money |
| My balls don’t break nor burst for nobody |
| My clique nah' trust, conduct our own studies |
| And stick cops up for donuts, go nutty |
| Back before all these condos shot up everywhere |
| So if you got manos put em in the air |
| Thump knock babies from car seats, Haunt Queens |
| Stomp crop circles in concrete, boy done broke outta' quarantine |
| Hopped up off the top turnbuckle on your uncle and auntie |
| Boy king, brassknuckled and undaunting |
| Swashbuckling speech beyond your belief |
| How much more unprofessional can anybody be, now everybody sleep |
| My man 8th 1, is passed out on the futon |
| With a pair of panties on his face |
| Wake up! |
| I don’t know man, I’m just not feeling it |
| It’s kind of hard for me to take this serious |
| Do you know the power that I’m dealing with |
| When all I do is talk and they’re like, «he's killing it?» |
| So I’m winging it like paul mccartney |
| Crash the party with a baby in a car seat |
| Then bag a bad chick give her the game |
| And now the dame playing with my joystick like atari |
| To marty mcflys I’m the future |
| Take you out of character, you shook, michael j. |
| fox |
| I like it, I take it, fuck «may I» |
| Just say «bye» like confused gay guys |
| But I don’t need to be around that |
| I need a crib somewhere in the adirondacks, C.B. radio’s only contact |
| Grow a beard, contemplate not coming back |
| Cause other than a-ok and the brown bag |
| I ain’t heard nothing past not bad |
| So my favorite MC is me |
| And Homeboy Sandman, my bad |
| I’m going to Congress with one hand raised up |
| And I will say, bail out these nuts |
| I’m Soul Khan |
| I’m a bad motherfucker and a passionate lover |
| Looking for a smooth chick with her ass on the cover |
| People say soul khan is delusional |
| Because I don’t hold back on these juveniles |
| You see, I too once was a clueless child |
| So I’mma flunk your high school musical |
| Ain’t none jihad-er, time bomb with a lit wick |
| It’s all fun and games, till a socket gets slick ricked |
| Concocting a sick, six, six scenario |
| Even my burial plot probably got big twists |
| Just like shyamalan, yes, I kamikaze |
| These weak-kneed automatons |
| And you can see me at comic con teaching the padawans |
| How to geek out like I’m leading a synagogue |
| Phenomenal with that heatrock spittle |
| Leave the beat so brittle it should be hospitalized |
| And that’s that, homie, Soul knows best |
| My tracks slap like motorboating Oprah’s breasts |
| Brown bag, a-ok, we’re the coldest yet |
| We run the whole damn table, money fold the deck |