Lyrics Knuckle Puck - Soul Khan, Koncept, 8th W1

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