Wu All-Stars - Soul in the Hole lyrics

Ayo, yo, yo, 'sup, where my team at
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 motherfuckin' rock up
Sin, Dreddy, y'all niggas is forwards
Shyheim, I want you on guard
Tekitha, baby girl, yo, check it
You play center
Let's whip these niggas asses, c'mon, kid
Word up, run hole
Hole, oh, oh, oh, oh

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 you 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 shots
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 hardballin' 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

Time the fuck out
I got a illegal defense on the wack MC
Number four, you can't be doin' that shit
Hold on God, peace God, hold on, hold on
I don't give a shit, I'll snuff 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 doubling
Suicide drills get your calves built
Crossover's ill
Have you thinkin' water spilt
With the two-three zone we
Smoke 'em like bones
And with the W-IN, we punchin' ya 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
'Til you get game, sport
Hit the gym and train
Do some jumping jacks and sit ups
Then maybe you can get up
But as for now, the scoreboard gets lit up
Take it down the middle and throw it all day
We number one draft pick, W-S-A
Nigga, you can't stop my J
How I do it everyday (Yo)

We throwin' fifty-two blocks at outside shots
To bubble up the snot box
No penalties or shot clocks
It's similar to Comstock kid
You catch an elbow in
This hellhole 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'll 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
(Soul in the hole)
Y'all niggas better sign up for my team, kid
For real

Soul in the hole soul in the hole
Soul in the hole soul in the hole
Hole, hole, hole, soul