URLtv - Soul Khan vs. J. Fox lyrics

[Intro] [Round 1: Soul Khan] In [?] Cali I said you're Kobe, that means you extra ugly But I forgot to mention that you got that legs of Muggsy You got this co*kiness about you like you can't bleed But you got this look on your face that says you can't read I dissed him back in Cali, he tried to get thugged out Top of his lungs hollering, chest puffed out I just stood there thinking, "Is this little hoe done?" I thought The Jungle's known for punches, b**h, you didn't throw one He got loud and animated like it was a cartoon But all you did was show us that b**hes can bark too Your boys walked away cause your talkin' is cheap But what happened next proved that y'all aren't street Cause QP's baby mom and girl got in a beef And when his girl got jumped QP called the police So now I know why you talk tough, knowing your homie would tell Cause, sh**, if I lift a finger against you I guess I'm going to jail You wanna fight over battle rap, that ain't something we do as men I'd tell you to grow up, but you ain't done that since you were ten If he tried that sh** here, the whole block would beat his a** Cause if New York's the Mecca, I'm El-Hajj Malik Shabazz I can walk across the water, make it all turn to whiskey And I ain't come here alone, I brought every borough with me If it wasn't for the Bronx, this rap sh** prolly never would be going off And going toe to toe to Khan, you need a stamina supplement A deep cover to sneak under to dodge his capital punishment Yo Pun, I'm - deadin' this midget with rhythm, similes and a sicker flow Than I'm spittin' so [little man?] to switchin' delivery Yeah! And it don't stop, cause this four-foot-seven motherf**er's gettin' dropped And I know when Harlem hears the style of flowin', that Fox stolen it Like b**h, you call those punchlines, this the home of Lamont Coleman Lamont Coleman, you even know who that is? I feel like an old man around these fool a** kids Big L would tell you, "You better flee hops, or get your head flown three blocks" If you wore a pair of baby shoes they'd look like kneesocks See, back in Oakland sh** popped, your man Q called the cops A razorblade is an ox, a little f*ggot's a Fox And I don't [stock?] from that block where they bang and the heat spits But I think Nas would want for me to take him to Queensbridge F-O-X, you s** at this rap sh** How many of Conceited's lines gon' come out yo' fat lips (I) run through your b**h and leave her (Will) nut on the hoe that birthed you (Not) Soul Khan across her belly (Lose) I showed you lost already But, we gotta keep on rollin' through, there's one more stop that's overdue J-Train to Brooklyn, I'm thinking "what would Hova do?" You went like five matches and you're Grind Time's wackest That's a zero hot battle every lifetime average Let me show these dudes what I do to protect this Shoot at you actors like movie directors But wait! Y'all thinkin' "Soul Khan, you ain't even flip that line!" Well neither did Conceited against Arsonal when he bit that line So [?] Shaolin with the Wu-Tang resumé Cause Fox, compared to Deck and Rae, you softer than a négligée The way you talk about guns you bust, corny as f** Damn, life as a shorty shouldn't be so rough [Round 1: J. Fox] Yo, now look, I hate this weak cracker I'm not racist, but he called us "terrible black street rappers" Y'all ever seen his battle with Madness? "Terrible black street rappers" And I know why, and this about to be a knee-slapper Now look, he's from California, Woodland Hills Google it, it's beautiful; he'll tell you Woodland k**s Now I was with Soul Khan when he first started rapping You went by the name Money-A, see, those were the funny days We used to get with you, tell you "kick a free" You'll say some bullsh**... [smacks hands] Is you kiddin' me? Could never come to outside cause his girl was always diggin' me That's when he put that mask on, came to the east, changed his identity He don't know how to handle that, he knew he couldn't do nothing with us in real life So that's when he chose to pick up battle rap, matter fact, that's why you on my nuts My rap group consists of "a fat dude and some chocolate Teddy Grahams," right? See, that was just petty, fam, and if you keep playing with fire, you gon' look like Freddy, man And that sh** you're doing with Conceited, see, that's your steady plan But you're doing too much, Khan, this n***a-hater wanna make his own group called the Ku Klux Khan And I'm just being honest, B; he hate blacks, out of all honesty Now when his girl told me this, it made me mad, I wanted to start sparkin' Rugers He wanted to stay up all night, he hates dreams cause of Martin Luther What really made me wanna go crazy [bad?] with gats and [blown robbers?] Well, we can go ahead and blame that on Obama But when it comes to our race you will never be as cool as us, but the breeze is nice And why we're bigger than y'all in everything we do, you can blame that on Jesus Christ Jeez, I'm nice, and that's why every morning he waking up in tears That's okay, we got a bigger dick but you clearly making up for it here [points to Soul Khan's nose] And look, I know this gon' get ya - how you hate blacks so much when you got a nose like a n***a? And you ain't spit flows anyway, cause you not sick, stop this, you ain't hot b**h And them judges in Canada were like Robin Hood the way they robbed Rich I got this, all you do is spit lies in rhymes You told me you won't fight no one that comes to your nipple, well that's great, we eye to eye I don't care if you know that secret sh** like Tiger Ty Cause once you start with it, I'mma let that fire fly And light his a** up. See I don't even battle no more, I do this time to time But you old news, QP k**ed you - you tried to come step on Q base, but didn't have these pro tools You disrespected me--[time called] [Round 2: Soul Khan] I'm sorry y'all, I'm feeling like a total clown My mama always told me to be polite when there's hoes around Your baby skull ain't capable enough to hold my crown But I can even beat you speaking how you think I'm supposed to sound, like: [nerdy voice] Ain't no way I'm gonna lose to this fella If I had a firearm, I'd be shootin' this fella If we engaged in fisticuffs, I'd be bruisin' this fella Smack -- who is this fella? [normal voice] I got a history of misery, I know their life is tragic You came from the Pacific just to die in the Atlantic (It's true) But if I box with J. Fox I've got the height and reach advantage So I will drop J like I'm trying to speak in Spanish You got swole so chicks online would be impressed with you 'Til they meet you in person, they like, "where the f** is the rest of you?" I will smoke this roach until there's nothing but residue I'd have thought you were diabetic from all the bars that they fed to you I don't want beef to jump off, I'm not a fighter, I'm a f**er But I've seen your jump-off, if I find her, I'mma f** her If I smile at her once, she'll provide me with another Then I'll take it to the hole like I'm Tiny at the Rucker Oh, you ain't get that reference? Don't beat yourself up! It went over your head, sh**, everything else does I heard from yo' bird that yo' s** game's slipping She said you drop your load quicker than next day shipping She want a king, not a pawn, that's checkmate, pimpin' So now I get under her drawers like I'm x-ray vision She's sick and tired of dealing with this sensitive fool Plus I discovered that your lover got a fetish for Jews Got my kids running down her lips like the steps of a school She call me Bob Vila, cause she impressed with my tool So she touch herself to thoughts of Khan's white dick But whenever she's with Fox she jerks him off, like this [SK makes tiny jerking off motion] I'll sake-bomb your mamasan, yes without a condom on Then it's two in the pink, one in the stink, now that's what I call a shocka' Khan (Think about that) I'll be at your chickadee's house, wearing nothing but a party hat Take a sh** in her mouth, and tell the b**h to gargle that When Fox is at the laundromat, taking his clothes out I'll roundhouse kick him like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse Then it's back to his [hoe's arse?] to make up for lost time Deep dickin' the b**h, she moaning with crossed eyes You spit brainless sh** like, "I geev heem heat like pot pies" That's why the only battle rapper named Fox that matters is Fox 5 But I did my research, Fox - all your battles are dope I mean, I can't believe you ever lost, you should have had every vote Here's a piece of genius that he crafted and wrote But keep in mind, y'all, these are Fox's actual quotes Like that one time you said: "I'll leave him wet from the pipe like he's takin' a shower" Mmmm! That must have taken you hours! But I ain't really understand the advanced level his brain's on 'Til I heard him say, "when I'm lettin' off strays, I ain't talkin' about a couple of stray dogs" All joking aside 'bout how I studied this garbage I gotta know, Fox: are you f**ing retarded? Either way, go back to your mousehole, s**a You give new meaning to the term "down-low brotha" After this his chick's gonna go back to Soul's sack Cause you the only dude to ever make a chick go black, then go back [Round 2: J. Fox] Yo, back to what I was saying, he disrespected me I should've left him with a cold bruise Instead I accepted this battle, to show y'all Fox a real n***a So of course I'mma eat soul food I'm so smooth, and if we'd have fought, on the floor is where you would've been found But we didn't fight, but let me paint y'all a picture of how it would've went down Now I'd have waited 'til he got outside It wouldn't have been a nice scene I'd have knocked his gla**es off After I hit him with a right mean Go for the legs, scoop him like he ice cream Get ready to stomp him out but forget it cause the Nikes clean I'm not Mookie but they begging me to do the right thing Cause I was about to let that eight off, n***a Don't call me J. Fox this battle, call me J. Dog Hitler And you know I was gonna bring him up, and remind you of them slaughters And I know you Jews hate pocket change, and how it remind you of them quarters Like real talk, how you in the zone with the champ? Cause I can get real personal Like how you Jews hate Boy Scouts, and how they come home from their camps But yeah, in that QP battle, he told Q If he had a nickel for anything he ever said hot, he'd have a nickel - now that's something Cause if I had a nickel for anything he ever said hot, I'd have nothing You see, he buggin', I had him shook when I rolled right up He froze right up, I said "Soul, get in the car," had Soul tied up "Don't move," he moved, so I let the chrome pipe bust It'll remind you of LA Gears the way Soul light up Now hold right up, you know I'm with the creep, dawg Ain't with the cheap talk, I just let the heat spark New York gon' see Soul in the Hole - no streetball Now peep, dawg, on that day, I really wanted to show you what this dude about He called me a f*ggot; okay, well let me show you what this fruit about He said I got a gun, so I guess maybe he'll shoot it out Cause we all know you came up short and a**ed out on a Daisy Duke it out But me and you beefin', why would I ever blast? Me and you boxin', how would you ever last? But when the pipe is on ya with one Isotoner, I would k** this Jewish Amish kid Then get rid of the glove, like the Supersonics did OGP, he's weak, and anyone that felt he beat QP easy's straight buggin' He burnt this Jew, I'm burnin' him too and it's easy... bake oven Now look, The Jungle said "yo, you gon' battle Khan, what's all this bark about?" [crowd interrupting, time called] [Round 3: Soul Khan] Now honestly, did you actually think you had any chance of you winning? I'll even beat you in that gangster fantasy land that you live in I will break your arm and when the doc puts a cast in it I'll rip the cast off with your arm still attached to it What's really good? You think Khan's still a pacifist? b**h, I'll replace your grandmother's heart pills with laxatives You a fatherless son? Soul is the foster The Mossberg put your head on your shoulder like fox fur I got that Tony Stark armor, I'll let Fox take a shot first The day you beat me Math Hoffa gon' play hopscotch with Okwerdz It ain't hard for Khan to outwit a S.O.N I'll be on your front lawn with that Howitzer gun He'll wish he had that iron on him, thinkin' through his final options Hoping that his feet'll reach the bottom of his tiny coffin He raise his arms to bargain for his life, this ain't a silent auction Ready, aim, and fire, then his chest deflates like tires poppin' You a battle rapper with no music, that's as stupid as it gets You as useless as a b**h without the coochie and the tits They say Jews don't believe in Hell? I'm proof that Lucifer exists I will duct tape your kids and make you choose the one that lives Don't make me get started on your momma, midget, she's so damn wide her pant size got a comma in it Usually when it comes to p**y, Khan is with it, but if you spread her a**, you could fit a Honda Civic Honestly, his mom is damn ugly, that sh** is pretty [frightening?] I saw the picture in the license; it looked like 50 Tyson The b**h totally pathetic, I told her [she's a B, so can it?] But she want my dick so bad she even be Tweetin' at it, like "@soulkhan'sdick: How you doing, cutie?" "@soulkhan'sdick: You wanna see the new Harry Potter movie?" Even if she threw the p**y at me, you think Khan would let her? Hell no, the b**h bush look like a Cosby sweater Soul is salmonella, more raw than ever This is nuclear warfare, and you brought Berrettas You couldn't hang with me even if you trained with Kimbo But I promise you will never ever lose a game of limbo See my crew Brown Bag, ain't a day that we been sober; you just a mad dog getting ate by a king cobra A Colt .45, the only way to survive, you wanna make it alive, you gotta pray to St. Ives You came a long way, Fox, you're k**in' yourself Nah, he just came to Broadway to audition for Elf But you in desperate need of some image enhancement Cause you from Stockton but you usually dress like a wigger from Kansas I bet you ain't know Maino until he dropped "Hi Hater" I been hip-hop since Q-Tip was talkin' 'bout skypagers You never comprehend the products of my labor I'm King Kong clutching a blonde b**h on a skyscraper I already turned down offers from five majors While you couldn't fly here without Heartless' pop's paper But I ain't break a sweat, still I am crushin' you f** a battle rap, I will will.i.am Usher you [singing] I'll lay you out in seconds flat, pow, pow, pow So call the paramedics stat, wow, oh, wow [normal voice] On Youtube, fast forward through [him poppin' off the ratchet?] Download my album "Soul Like Khan" since it's a cla**ic At his funeral service, when his body's in the casket The reverend will say, we are gathered today To say that Fox is still a f*ggot [Round 3: J. Fox] It's third round, now I'mma show you how the rap [piff?] We on URL, so it's time for me to get on that SMACK sh** You know, talkin' 'bout how I clap clips, so why would you wanna f** with Fox? Once I dump and buck the Glock, I'mma put you in the skies cause you an undercover cop But if he try to undercover Fox, it's nothin' he can't get him for I'll put rounds on this square like a checkerboard Every time you rap, I get hella bored The heat will melt the skin off your face like Skeletor One shot will make him teleport, I made more choppers fly than a heliport When the Tec is torched, it'll shake and bake ya It was supposed to be no line, no time limit, but he was saved by the bell, that's A.C. Slater I'mma put him in the air like an aviator, there's no DJ but I got K's that Slay ya I got 8s and razors, you can run into these bucks since you a paper chaser As for battling, he's not really in the game, you're a created player So I'mma put the heat to your grill and hood like a radiator The baby laser, that's where the deuce be And they're not laughing cause you nice, they're laughing cause you look f**ing goofy Once I decide to dump the Uzi, I'mma make this Soul rise like that [krumpet?] movie And that's nothin' new, B, I'm here to let you all have it Fox is all savage, and I'mma turn this small cabbage to tossed salad I'm a boss [?] and my n***as that clutch [?] Creep where he live, pick him up off the corner like bus pa**es When they bang forty, it sounds like trucks crashin' I invite you to hush, f*ggot, don't say a word They bang hammers for a sentence like Judge Mathis And you can't match this, I have this pumpkin sewed up Not a Milwaukee fan, but you'll hear something go buck His nerd a** dumpin'? So what? I'll put him and all these Munchkins in a box - Dunkin Donuts And chick you call Pumpkin blow us, and she told you she tried rapping with sacks now How he gettin' some brown hash, when these Jews too cheap to buy hashbrowns? You see, you just a cla** clown, and they all know when I'm flowin' it's fire You boo-boo, you the same thing that should go into diapers I'mma send you to the holy Messiah You wanna play superhero? White boy, gla**es? Okay, Tobey Maguire We gon' see how far that go when I'm blowin' fire That's gon' make him spin like clothes in a dryer, and we all know he a liar Cause the last time he saw Nicks and Cannons he was holding Mariah