Soul in the Hole

Soul in the Hole Soundtrack

Timbo King
Ghostface killah
Dreddry Kruger
Killa Sin

Black Moes-Art


(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 baseline
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 forward
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, 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 1


(Dreddy Kruger *Killa Sin*)

Time the fuck out!
I got a illegal defense on the wack MC
Number 4, you can't be doin' that shit
Hold on God, peace God, hold on, hold on
*Oh shit I'm snuffin' you!*


Soul... in the hole...
Soul... in the hole...


I know niggas liver than Allen Iverson
Take it to the hole and roll it in, triple-double in
Suicide drills get your calves built
Crossovers ill, have you thinkin' water split
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 bitch 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 jumpin' jacks and sit ups, 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 1 draft pick W-U-S-A

Nigga, you can't stop my J, how I do it everyday

(Killa 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 back pass, with enough force that it'd crack glass
We celebratin' at last for stoppin' you
So take your sorry black ass, back to the locker room, yo
My team work to make your team hurt, we pullin' up skirts
So back down, before these Wu niggas tear the fuckin' shack down

What what what? No doubt, no doubt
We got the all-star lineup here
Y'all niggas better sign up for my team kid, for real