- I’ve noticed a lot of boxing memorabilia. We got some gloves over here. Pictures everywhere. Who’s the boxer? | |
- Me. | |
- You’re the boxer? | |
- Yeah | |
- You a tough guy? | |
- Yeah, tough enough. | |
- Really? What could you do? | |
- To you? | |
- Yeah | |
You getting brutalized | |
[Verse 1] | |
I’m a street fighter like M. Bison | |
I might bite you like Tyson, trife with a license | |
Put ice on the cut, doctors’ll be splicing it up | |
Rocky snuffed right to the gut | |
I’m a Spartan, start beef my fists will harden | |
You punch like a girl but you ain’t Christy Martin | |
You get no love, hit you with no gloves | |
Duff you like sure enough shove you no one’s above | |
My thunder and lightning, your eyes sting | |
No wonder you need Visine, not surprising, London Prize Ring | |
You felt were ill, your black belt ain’t shit | |
When you’re attacked in your jail cell you fainted | |
While you’re pumping dope in you I’m jumping rope | |
There’s no hope for you dope, chump, jealous lazy bum | |
No matter son I’m training whether it’s sunny or raining | |
Like Sonny I’m reigning, you Patterson | |
[Chorus] | |
You realise when I close up your two eyes you getting brutalized | |
Size you up, prize fight shit, die what, you getting brutalized | |
Fake tough guys break and snuff no compromise, you getting brutalized | |
Size ain’t shit, big guys victimized too, you getting brutalized | |
[Verse 2] | |
Yo I laugh at you fronters, a no-skill rider | |
You ain’t no ill fighter, you telegraph punches | |
Shots thrown from the hip your dome split open | |
Hemotobin, you should’ve known your shit | |
Defence techniques from a knuckle-bone blitz | |
Your knees buckle you’re weak sucker, don’t snitch | |
Deal with it, real with it, it’ll heal quick | |
Then I’ll run up on you again and bust open your shit | |
Twice, three times, quadruple, rip apart pupils | |
Kick like marsupials hard and brutal | |
Then watch how we get busy, you left dizzy | |
Left right hook where is he? Side step and you miss me | |
Weapon the rugged ? for myself | |
Thug it, militants, weapons, our hands deadly, slug it out | |
You’re bugging out, drugged up, get knocked out | |
Your mouth plugged up with stitches, you’re ugly now | |
[Chorus] | |
You realise when I close up your two eyes you getting brutalized | |
Size you up, prize fight shit, die what, you getting brutalized | |
Fake tough guys break and snuff no compromise, you getting brutalized | |
Size ain’t shit, big guys victimized too, you getting brutalized |
I' ve noticed a lot of boxing memorabilia. We got some gloves over here. Pictures everywhere. Who' s the boxer? | |
Me. | |
You' re the boxer? | |
Yeah | |
You a tough guy? | |
Yeah, tough enough. | |
Really? What could you do? | |
To you? | |
Yeah | |
You getting brutalized | |
Verse 1 | |
I' m a street fighter like M. Bison | |
I might bite you like Tyson, trife with a license | |
Put ice on the cut, doctors' ll be splicing it up | |
Rocky snuffed right to the gut | |
I' m a Spartan, start beef my fists will harden | |
You punch like a girl but you ain' t Christy Martin | |
You get no love, hit you with no gloves | |
Duff you like sure enough shove you no one' s above | |
My thunder and lightning, your eyes sting | |
No wonder you need Visine, not surprising, London Prize Ring | |
You felt were ill, your black belt ain' t shit | |
When you' re attacked in your jail cell you fainted | |
While you' re pumping dope in you I' m jumping rope | |
There' s no hope for you dope, chump, jealous lazy bum | |
No matter son I' m training whether it' s sunny or raining | |
Like Sonny I' m reigning, you Patterson | |
Chorus | |
You realise when I close up your two eyes you getting brutalized | |
Size you up, prize fight shit, die what, you getting brutalized | |
Fake tough guys break and snuff no compromise, you getting brutalized | |
Size ain' t shit, big guys victimized too, you getting brutalized | |
Verse 2 | |
Yo I laugh at you fronters, a noskill rider | |
You ain' t no ill fighter, you telegraph punches | |
Shots thrown from the hip your dome split open | |
Hemotobin, you should' ve known your shit | |
Defence techniques from a knucklebone blitz | |
Your knees buckle you' re weak sucker, don' t snitch | |
Deal with it, real with it, it' ll heal quick | |
Then I' ll run up on you again and bust open your shit | |
Twice, three times, quadruple, rip apart pupils | |
Kick like marsupials hard and brutal | |
Then watch how we get busy, you left dizzy | |
Left right hook where is he? Side step and you miss me | |
Weapon the rugged nbsp? for myself | |
Thug it, militants, weapons, our hands deadly, slug it out | |
You' re bugging out, drugged up, get knocked out | |
Your mouth plugged up with stitches, you' re ugly now | |
Chorus | |
You realise when I close up your two eyes you getting brutalized | |
Size you up, prize fight shit, die what, you getting brutalized | |
Fake tough guys break and snuff no compromise, you getting brutalized | |
Size ain' t shit, big guys victimized too, you getting brutalized |
I' ve noticed a lot of boxing memorabilia. We got some gloves over here. Pictures everywhere. Who' s the boxer? | |
Me. | |
You' re the boxer? | |
Yeah | |
You a tough guy? | |
Yeah, tough enough. | |
Really? What could you do? | |
To you? | |
Yeah | |
You getting brutalized | |
Verse 1 | |
I' m a street fighter like M. Bison | |
I might bite you like Tyson, trife with a license | |
Put ice on the cut, doctors' ll be splicing it up | |
Rocky snuffed right to the gut | |
I' m a Spartan, start beef my fists will harden | |
You punch like a girl but you ain' t Christy Martin | |
You get no love, hit you with no gloves | |
Duff you like sure enough shove you no one' s above | |
My thunder and lightning, your eyes sting | |
No wonder you need Visine, not surprising, London Prize Ring | |
You felt were ill, your black belt ain' t shit | |
When you' re attacked in your jail cell you fainted | |
While you' re pumping dope in you I' m jumping rope | |
There' s no hope for you dope, chump, jealous lazy bum | |
No matter son I' m training whether it' s sunny or raining | |
Like Sonny I' m reigning, you Patterson | |
Chorus | |
You realise when I close up your two eyes you getting brutalized | |
Size you up, prize fight shit, die what, you getting brutalized | |
Fake tough guys break and snuff no compromise, you getting brutalized | |
Size ain' t shit, big guys victimized too, you getting brutalized | |
Verse 2 | |
Yo I laugh at you fronters, a noskill rider | |
You ain' t no ill fighter, you telegraph punches | |
Shots thrown from the hip your dome split open | |
Hemotobin, you should' ve known your shit | |
Defence techniques from a knucklebone blitz | |
Your knees buckle you' re weak sucker, don' t snitch | |
Deal with it, real with it, it' ll heal quick | |
Then I' ll run up on you again and bust open your shit | |
Twice, three times, quadruple, rip apart pupils | |
Kick like marsupials hard and brutal | |
Then watch how we get busy, you left dizzy | |
Left right hook where is he? Side step and you miss me | |
Weapon the rugged nbsp? for myself | |
Thug it, militants, weapons, our hands deadly, slug it out | |
You' re bugging out, drugged up, get knocked out | |
Your mouth plugged up with stitches, you' re ugly now | |
Chorus | |
You realise when I close up your two eyes you getting brutalized | |
Size you up, prize fight shit, die what, you getting brutalized | |
Fake tough guys break and snuff no compromise, you getting brutalized | |
Size ain' t shit, big guys victimized too, you getting brutalized |