Texty: Soundtrack Artists. Soul In The Hole.

[Ghostface Killah]
Yo yo yo whassup 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 motherfuckin rock up
Sin Dreddy y'all niggaz is forward
Shyheim, I want you on guard
Tekitha baby girl yo check it you play center
Let's rip these niggaz asses, 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 bassline
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, 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 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
(Killa Sin: Oh shit I'm snuffin you!)

[Tekitha]
Soul... in the hole...

Soul... in the hole...

[Shyheim]
I know niggaz liver than Allan 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 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 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
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 backpass, with enough force that it'd crack glass
We celebratin at last for stoppin you
So take your sorry black ass, back to the lockerroom, yo
My team work to make your team hurt, we pullin up skirts
So back down, before these Wu niggaz tear the fuckin shot down
What what what? No doubt, no doubt
We got the all-star lineup here
Y'all niggaz 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