[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 cockiness 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, bitch, you didn't throw one
He got loud and animated like it was a cartoon
But all you did was show us that bitches 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, shit, 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 shit here, the whole block would beat his ass
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 shit 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' to little men so switch your delivery
Yeah! And it don't stop, cause this four-foot-seven motherfucker's gettin' dropped
And I know when Harlem hears the style of flowin', that Fox stolen it
Like bitch, 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 ass 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 shit popped, your man Q called the cops
A razorblade is an ox, a little faggot'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 suck at this rap shit
How many of Conceited's lines gon' come out yo' fat lips
(I) run through your bitch 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 fuck
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 kills
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 bullshit… [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 shit you're doing with Conceited, see, that's your steady plan
But you're doing too much, Khan, this nigga-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 nigga?
And you ain't spit flows anyway, cause you not sick, stop this, you ain't hot bitch
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 shit like Tiger Ty
Cause once you start with it, I'mma let that fire fly
And light his ass up. See I don't even battle no more, I do this time to time
But you old news, QP killed 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 fuck 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 fucker
But I've seen your jump-off, if I find her, I'mma fuck 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, shit, everything else does
I heard from yo' bird that yo' sex 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 shit in her mouth, and tell the bitch 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 bitch, she moaning with crossed eyes
You spit brainless shit 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 fucking retarded?
Either way, go back to your mousehole, sucka
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 nigga
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 glasses 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, nigga
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 faggot; 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 assed 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 kill 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?
Bitch, 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 bitch 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 pussy, Khan is with it, but if you spread her ass, you could fit a Honda Civic
Honestly, his mom is damn ugly, that shit is pretty [frightening?] I saw the picture in the license; it looked like 50 Tyson
The bitch 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 pussy at me, you think Khan would let her?
Hell no, the bitch 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 killin' 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 bitch 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
Fuck a battle rap, I will will.i.am Usher you

[sung] I'll lay you out in seconds flat, pow, pow, pow
So call the paramedics stat, wow, oh, wow

[rapped] On Youtube, fast forward through [him poppin' off the ratchet?] Download my album "Soul Like Khan" since it's a classic
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 faggot

[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 shit
You know, talkin' 'bout how I clap clips, so why would you wanna fuck 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 fucking 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 niggas that clutch [?] Creep where he live, pick him up off the corner like bus passes
When they bang forty, it sounds like trucks crashin'
I invite you to hush, faggot, 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 ass 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 class 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, glasses? 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