Royal Fam - Soul in the Hole lyrics

[Ghostface k**ah] Yo yo yo wha**up where my team where my team at? C'mere y'all c'mere c'mere, circle around me y'all circle around me Yo Timbo check it you bring the motherf**in rock up Sin Dreddy y'all n***as is forwards Shyheim, I want you on guard Tekitha baby girl yo check it you play center Let's rip these n***as a**es, c'mon kid Word up, run [Tekitha] Hole... hole... oh oh ohhhh [Timbo King] We be a team, cause everybody plays a part in this Ain't no chuckin, we comin from the parks where the gun sparks After dark, you got your three point shooters Scrubs who quick to fire out cause your style is out We drinkin quarts on courts so how you handle it Shootin bricks or sellin bricks, we still scramblin With offense and defense, I use the ba**line To score points frequent Yo, yo Yo check the mic so I can slam without a crossover Wack jump shot punk rock players get tossed over By the bleachers, I'm bringin pressure like a power foward You try to walk and get away with it the ref saw it Your startin five couldn't get verbal live I penetrate across the lane, all reasons mines Percentage from the field is real, we hard boilin Swish shot in your face, your coach is callin For a timeout, I bomb your rhyme out, with a free throw Fast break through the legs crush your rookie ego You steppin out of bounds son, now how that sound Dunn I thought we was playin ball, don't start at round one [Ref - Dreddy Kruger] Time the f** out! I got a illegal defense on the wack MC Number four, you can't be doin that sh** Hold on God, peace God, hold on, hold on (k**a Sin: Oh sh** I'm snuffin you!) [Tekitha] Soul... in the hole... Soul... in the hole... [Shyheim] I know n***as liver than Allen Iverson Take it to the hole and roll it in, triple-double in Suicide drills get your cavs built Crossovers ill, have you thinkin water spilt With the 2-3 zone we smoke em, like bones And with the W-I-N, we, punchy at home Sore losers take off they jersey, cause they ain't James Worthy Your b**h mad cause they ain't get they hands dirty Lame, better not open up that Gatorade Until you game sport, hit the gym and train Do some jumping jacks and situps, then maybe you can get up But as for now the scoreboard gets lit up Take you down the middle, and throw it all day We number one draft pick W-S-A n***a, you can't stop my J How I do it everyday [k**a Sin] Yo, we throwin 52 blocks at outside shots to bubble up the snot box No penalties or shot blocks, it's similar to Comstock kid You catch an elbow in this hell Hole of concrete Add a touch of Soul before we compete You better have your Vietnam fleet my squad deep like Ethiopians Peep me in the open and I'm closin in Focus on the broken rim now, we shake a bone out your stand Toss a backpa**, with enough force that it'd crack gla** We celebratin at last for stoppin you So take your sorry black a**, back to the lockerroom, yo My team work to make your team hurt, we pullin up skirts So back down, before these Wu n***as tear the f**in shot down What what what? No doubt, no doubt We got the all-star lineup here Y'all n***as better sign up for my team kid, for real [Tekitha] Soul... in the hole... Soul... in the hole... Soul... in the hole... So-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ul... in the ho-oh-le-le-le-le, Soul