Låttexter: Cocoa Brovaz. Other. Punch Out....

(feat. Xun Tsu & The Most Talented)

[set to the beat of Mike Tyson's Punch Out for the NES]

[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

[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]