Lyrics:
Than the pugilist's art, and so I inclined, To take meself serious as a modern romancer, And I secretly learnt all the moves of a dancer. Ye swing
think my eyes are looking kind It's cause I'm searching for your weakness Cause I may be going down But now without a fight I'm a pugilist right now
It was back around the turn of the centuries, Back around nineteen hundred & thirteen, There was a Negro pugilist his name was Jack Johnson.
play the pugilist (that ain't nothing, yeah) I don't give a soup noodle dish Please say something (please say something) Please say something (yeah)
Up in Montana There's a special kinda man A real pugilist Better never get him pissed Temperamental fella Gonna harsh somebody's mellow in A fit
torpedo like dark shapes, increase heart rate to maximum! Mako, Great White, Tiger, Hammerhead Line up their tasty revenge! Quick as a pugilist's punch
the fight from the pugilist And find a place to bury what we take to feel this way You don't know anything I'll take a pill, tomorrow I'll be okay Miss doctor
a pugilist specialist I can adapt to any style Yeah, check Yo, yeah. Showtime Ramon Check, Yo. This shit crazy, Showtime Yo, I'm spitting flames. I turn his
jack C4 when I run it back Like a track star, run a record lap? Nah, like when his needle catch (yeah) Clean look, poet pugilist A shooters view,
Like a track star, run a record lap? Nah, like when his needle catch (yeah) Clean look, poet pugilist A shooters view, a Zapruder flick (yeah) Too
and I make headlines like Lo and Diddy or Bob and Whitney (who?) I'm here 'cause the Lord sent me (who?) Pound puss like a pugilist Grin real devilish
dome, I hit quick as a pugilist Ugh, ah, what's up? Now your eyes swoll' Thought I went soft, cause my records went gold (Sucker) Buster, you'se a -
(yeah) You and I make headlines like Lo and Diddy or Bob and Whitney (who?) I'm here 'cause the Lord sent me (who) Pound puss like a pugilist Grin real
(yeah) You and I make headlines like Lo and Diddy or Bob and Whitney (who?) I'm here 'cause the Lord sent me (who) Pound puss like a pugilist Grin real
jack C4 when I run it back Like a track star, run a record lap? Nah, like when his needle catch (yeah) Clean look, poet pugilist A shooters view,
the author of the final chapter seven star grandmaster Pugilist John Trappa M.D. Go-go thirteen professional MC I bomb squads like Hank Sharpley Expose a fraud
know this flow pops Be like a pugilist, you wanna throw shots? When I do this shit way in, the folks flock Like my career and my mug is receivin'
the meanest, cleanest, pugilist genius grabbin' my penis Crucified, niggas thought I died, I'm back, I'm Jesus (I'm Jesus) Got crack in the back, got gas in
mama in a black dress See me in a black lex, hard-top My mink drop-top, fresh out the carlot I got the gift of raw pugilist speeches So I'm gon sell
His spit is worth more than her work Pass the purse to the pugilists He's a prizefighter And he bought rings and he owns kin And now he's
feet just like a pugilist What can I do can't make a monkey out of you I can't keep you wild and loose, Can't lock you in your room I can't make you pay
Shabama lama hammer grammar slammer nothing new to this Shaolin Kung-Fu Wu-Tang pugilist, yellow blue diamonds, black buddah beads circle wrist You
pussy And it's full of piff The brothers spittin but we Scuffle like some pugilists And what we do when we doin' It and we do it well I got a sandwich
the mind an tongue is the weapon (Woo) Like the kid with only one hand on the left (Woo) Never got to do it right! Thou I'm not aggressive I'm a pugilist
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