Artist: Black Knights Album: n/a Song: Crunch Time Typed By: X-Calibur, Tha Masta [Intro: Doc Doom (Crisis)] Yeah! Yeah! The Black Knights (West Coast Killa Beez) We in the house! Iron Brigade! West Coast Killa Bee niggas, (Crisis the General) nah mean? Check it [Doc Doom] We flip flows like niggas flip scripts with hollow tips, plus extra clips on ya blocks ready to start shit It's like a death-wish, for you to step to this Mic analyst, dismantle shit with tombs of doom like Mary the best in this whole rap game, no need to search no more the Black Knights'll turn any section into a murder show so welcome to the Medieval chamber, dungeon of lunatics Emcees wet they pedistals standing up in a pool of piss it's ludicrous, beef with Black Knights is simply foolishness We rulin' shit, the Killa Bee Clan that's who I'm movin' wit' Off the top, now y'all niggas know who got the spot locked Black Knights, the deadly Four Horsemen ridin' through Camelot on horseback, with our guns out, blazin' a hot trail from Clydesdale, bustin' hot shells, and throwin' cocktails Our minds dwell, deep in the sewer we make maneouvres like hugry cougars through these L.A. streets clutchin' our Rugers [Hook: Holocaust] Ironclad samurais, march under these dark skies Roamin' through the sinners' graveyard with sharp knives Think twice and get ya fuckin' neck sliced and cut wide Tryin' to touch mine, Black Knights shine at Crunch Time [Crisis] It's a suicide mission, steppin' to tote Mac's Get ya skull cracked and get ya dough snatched when niggaz never hold back, we hold gats durin' combat, dealin' with gunplay Monday through Sunday In Killa Cal it's only one way Test, do or die, cock the .45 and let 'em fly Fuck a vest, in the West we don't aim for the chest I roll with villains, thug niggas, drug dealers and blood spillers Poverty made killers who drink liqour, blaze niggas In the struggle, since the hustle to juggle, niggas'll bust you to oppress you they dont slapbox or wrestle, we pullin' pistols In Killa Cal, where niggas is foul and killers prowl we leave you ya bagged and nasty, darkened, in a mackin' mafia style Flippin' hoods for miles, bitches is wild, snitches exiled from the blocks where teenagers hold glocks puttin' it down Young niggas who's live, wildin' out like wild Indian Tribes Known to ride, let 'em fly, plus homicide when they collide Peace to niggas from the Rock, ol' lime o' lime on the grind with nines, at Crunch Time, fuck one time We bustin' lunch-lines, there's no remorse All the North of course could never touch mine Move as one, stay in one mind, that makes the sun shine [Holocaust] Hazardous waste leaks out my brainstem, light up a dark room Then mark goons with large wounds from now you're shark's food It's harsh doom which starts soon, the gifted merchant Fuck the apple, I tackled and bit the serpent You get the curtains, controversial critical thinking While the sound intensity bedazzles pitiful weaklings You're sinkin' deep into a trance-like state, battling illness Manifest allergic reactions that'll be realness So feel this, vitamin pack, battleaxe Snap that ass into stacks-type rap that rattles tracks 'til they crack, back-smack wack cats for touchin' mic's Duckin' spikes in an ancient temple where nothin's right Fuckin' trife, runnin' man, bombs' expert, who networks Sprayin' up ya sweatshirt with pressure until ya flesh hurts The next work, capturin' me, will cause a tremor Burn and scold to sinners then blow you a hall of mirrors In a form, of Arabian light piercing the darkness Wu-Tang blood runs deeper than that of cartridge Family tree, G-O-D, so shut the hell up It's Killa Bee logged and developed, you gettin' swelled up with concrete knuckles in scuffles, I hate crews Give 'em lumps the size of footballs, bricks and grapefruits Make soup out of weak motherfuckers, taste bitter death Spittin' out the buckshot and cut rocks like drug spots with a sharp sound wave, indeed, the mic's suspended You heard now you ended, permanent flight attendant [Hook] [Monk] Absorb in a hole cuz Every Night is a Black Knight Faggot style types with style darts that they write But I recite the homicidal thoughts that I crave Step up, you'll get slayed by the Black Knight Brigade We Dirty Ho, Mortal Kombat, cripple avengers The Rugged Monk ripped the mic, do you remember? Your last strengthened darts they part within an instant to get the distance, lyrically stomp, we leave no footprints Dart staple gun pierce the eardrum with an iron fist, my appliances be a chrome mic and a five mic rhyme star Fuck ya coast and the weak bars, I be a migrant Conquer all that exists, all know me as the Rugged Monk or the Top Gun, I leave ya brains numb from the harsh rhymes I spit from the tongue You know the outcome, flawless victory Use my inner strength as energy You get flooded by the Killa Beez West Coast Killa Beez (West Coast) [Hook] [Holocaust] Black Knights shine at Crunch Time.. Black Knights shine at Crunch Time..