Boxing Champ by Buddha Monk (Ft. Da Manchuz & Polladon)
Boxing Champ by Buddha Monk (Ft. Da Manchuz & Polladon)

Boxing Champ

Buddha Monk & Da Manchuz & Polladon * Track #3 On Zu-Chronicles, Vol. 4: Manchuz Dynasty

Boxing Champ Lyrics

[Intro: Polladon]
That's right, the V.B.B.C., Verbal Bolo Boxing Champ
Shutting the world down, answer to the Mood Hill
Slow down baby, fore you crash
Polla'dizzy, all over your muthafuckin' ass

[Polladon]
I make a fucka call it quits, I'm too hungry for this bullshit
Taking whatever it gets, son, without no prob'
No deal, but bet the Don get ill
No deal, but I still rep the Hill
Hittin' switches, bumpin' herb with ghetto bitches
Drop coke on every block, my hand itches
No tap, bring it back, I want that
No taps, see me tell you give it back
Lethal, ammo, heartbeat ghetto
On some whole clip let go, fucking everybody wetto
Test me, I test you, etcetera, son, bless you
Critical hour biz, the Don got get you

[Chorus 2X: Polladon]
It's a done deal, I flood, you cats test my water
Nickel ass niggas ain't shit to a quarter
Shut down against my strength, calm down
Just one step too much out of bound

[Polladon]
You getting hot like heatwave, who give a damn if he pay
Make his body drop, brown spot through braid
Shaking me, got a sort of bail from my sleeve
Beware dog block, come over can't leave
Had his corpse leaked deep in the woods by Bambi
It was four more shots to his knot, that jammed me
Broken steel, bad hand off, I don't feel
Fuck family, you ground zero style in the field
Done that, comic book cats, I yum that
Twist caps, like open soda to the block, flat
Gully be me, not you, so play the back
For a bell, cock red dots, marking where you hatch

[Chorus 2X]

[Polladon]
Gutter, coke got flame for your butter
Make your eyelids, tongue kiss dark like closed shutters
Smoked up like Euro, V.B.B.C., Verbal Bolo
Boxing Champ, burn hot like lava lamp
Blood deep, ultrate one like menstraul cramp
Dangerous like young tiny twats in tight pants
Ended, like the DJ shot til last dance
Heavy semen, lifted far range with no hands
Bad luck, like a broke hood bitch with no pants
Brush ya nap, with a four five splat, fuck her man
Internal, can't son block my inferno
Sixteen bars, your mic went pop like the kernal

[Chorus 2X]

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