Punch Out... (feat. Xun Tsu & The Most Talented)

Cocoa Brovaz

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    [Michael Buffer]
    Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls
    Let's get ready to rumble!

    [Tek]
    You got me lock, more flavors to drop
    Once me bust, no shots we take bop
    Burns they gun, done cheffed up they block
    Smokey Lah get what's in the dead rock
    We like what fire, when shots fire
    You say your eye bust buyin then we aim higher
    Never retire, I'mma street cyer
    When your ten boys are dead, even more fire

    [Steele]
    Nigga we all timers, all you niggas are small timers
    With alziners, Tek n Steele the lost rhymers
    Chart climbers, start drama, spark ganja
    Affiliated with deep scholars and street mobsters
    New York's an author, Notorious like Big Poppa
    Cuz I know killas that'll leave you missing like Hoffa
    You cat's are imposters, we show rockers
    Cloak poppers, show glocks off and turn to show stoppers

    [Chorus: Steele]
    You rappers can't even hang with me
    Can't handle the game like me
    Get on the blaze, cuz on the shame and sweat
    Do it for days, it ain't no thing for me, nigga
    You rappers can't even match with us
    Can't handle the track like us
    Don't know a man that can stand with us
    And no game, you rappers can't handle us

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    [Xun Tsu]
    Ain't no motherfuckin thing changed, it's Xun Tsu
    The same cat that loved to lick shots at your crew, I'm back
    New tactics, new plans, Xun Tsu dented shit like the Son of Sam
    It's mask murder, this industry ain't seen nothin yet
    We blood thirsty, niggas best protect they neck
    Xun Tsu, and my military you get wicked like voodoo
    Hittin em up, take two
    Never assimilated, I'm not a Blood but affiliated
    Weed smoke keeps me stimulated
    Who you been with, see my niggas I sent with
    It's scared in the same room, next bed shit
    Is you bout it, words quotable so don't doubt it
    Got soldiers that'll have you moved out and re-routed
    My infantry got you runnin like El Nino
    For cats that bust nine-millies and quattro cinquos

    [Chorus 1/2]

    [Michael Buffer]
    From New York city, New York
    Wearing the red trunks with yellow trim
    And weighing in at 120 pounds

    [The Most Talented]
    Ya try to pull a roll on my eyes, imagine that
    I pity the itty and livin the lie
    The all I seein, Most gon peep it all in the game
    And show mistake made dog, cuz you and two are the same
    Never that, now who be the one that spray for the fool
    You know the name punk, body up in I.C.U.
    It's how y'all do, to be hold to feel the wrath of the lord
    And little fame god, your soul trapped off in the morgue
    Mess around, you thought you was smart but I can forsee
    Anythin an imbecile try to hide it to sleep
    Believe me, I know the rules and I'm on to you
    You smile at me, but I'm hip to the things you do
    You feel the flame, and leave a mark symbolizin my name
    The Most Talented but known to leave a rapper in pain
    You the amateur, try to score a point on the champ
    The lone soldier be the Most, run a muck in ya camp,
    Game Over, uh

    [Tek]
    You the lyrics from my mother flucker, shots from my bun
    Lyrics from the mother fluck like a nuclear bomb
    See me come and lady dance with me, chris and one
    And the con underneath made it drink after one

    [Chorus x2]

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