[Interlude: Ghostface Killah]
Ayo, yo, yo, 'sup, where my team at, 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 n***as is forwards
Shyheim, I want you on guard
Tekitha, baby girl, yo, check it, you play center
Let's whip these n***as asses, c'mon, kid
Word up, run

[Intro: Tekitha]
Hole
Hole, oh, oh, oh, oh

[Verse 1: Dreddy Krueger & 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 you 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 baseline
To score points frequent (Yo, yo)

[Verse 2: Timbo King]
Yo, check the mic so I can slam without a crossover
Wack jump shots, punk rock players get tossed over
By the bleachers, I'm bringin' pressure like a power forward
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 hardballin'
Swish shot in your face, your coach is callin'
For a timeout, I bomb your rhyme out 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
[Interlude]
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
I don't give a shit, I'll snuff you

[Chorus: Tekitha]
Soul in the hole
Soul in the hole

[Verse 3: Shyheim & Killa Sin]
I know n***as liver than Allen Iverson
Take it to the hole and roll it in, triple-doubling
Suicide drills get your calves built
Crossover's ill, have you thinkin' water spilt
With the two-three zone we smoke 'em like bones
And with the W-I-N, we punchin' ya 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
'Til you get game, sport, hit the gym and train
Do some jumping jacks and sit ups, then maybe you can get up
But as for now, the scoreboard gets lit up
Take it down the middle and throw it all day
We number one draft pick, W-S-A
N***a, you can't stop my J
How I do it everyday (Yo)
[Verse 4: Killa Sin]
We throwin' fifty-two blocks at outside shots to bubble up the snot box
No penalties or shot clocks, it's similar to Comstock kid
You catch an elbow in this hellhole 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 back pass with enough force that it'll crack glass
We celebratin' at last for stoppin' you
So take your sorry black ass, back to the locker room, yo
My team work to make your team hurt, we pullin' up skirts
So back down before these Wu n***as tear the fuckin' shack down
What? What? What? (No doubt, no doubt)
We got the all-star lineup here (Soul in the hole)
Y'all n***as better sign up for my team, kid, for real

[Chorus: Tekitha]
Soul in the hole
Soul in the hole
Soul in the hole
Soul in the hole
Hole, hole, hole, soul