Standing in the red and blue corner
Looking built to brawl
Weighin in at a catch weight too big for y'all
With an impressive record
No wins losses or draws in the process
Cuz every bout scored a no contest
Drew Da Picture, tempt me tempt me
Knock out artists call me emcee dempsey
Who want to step up like they the big man on campus
To get rocked and is da big man on campus
His blood will be the pain and the ring will be the canvas
It's a masterpiece, illustrating how I do damage
They keep my hands in raps cuz they say they're lethal weapons
For me it's a sparring session for you it's a boxing lesson
I'm an MGM Grand, Garden, top prize fighter
You more like a not quite ready for prime time fighter
A Versus Network, not even friday night's fighter
A built but, built up not that nice fighter
I'm the champ, but still I'm the number 1 contender
You the chump, more like the number 1 pretender
Don't call me by no other name
You're Ernie Terell I'm Cassius Clay
I mean ali, so I'm gonna beat that ass screamin what's my name
Now if I told u I was nice with my hands
That was a lie cuz there aint nothing nice bout these hands
I'm a slick south paw in a conventional stance
And I move quite fast you'll swear you was fightin flash
I flurry an avalanche, a blindin speed attack
You won't even see the punches till they comin back
Lead, counter, lead, I mix it up like a dj
And they couldn't slow the combos down on an instant replay
Not to mention that I got the kind of punch power
To make every 3 minute round feel like 3 hours
And the ring savvy to negate your punch power
Momentum won't swing in my direction cuz i'll counter
My fight plans to treat em like a safe when I go in
And try some different combinations till I bust em open
I'll hit you with so many lefts, i'll violate your rights, yes
So many 1-2s, you'll think we're doin a mic check
Exhaust em wear em out and hit em in the clinches
Mentally surrender as I render em defenseless
I'll walk em down and take away his legs and wind till he don't move
And his corners callin on him but we're fightin in the phone booth
Show him the ropes and keep him on em then forget it
I come from all angles, better check your geometrics
I'll batter him and baffle him and bludgeon him and punish him
And blindside a fighter standin directly in front of him
Such an arsenal of ways to land my left right hand
That even teddy atlas would wanna borrow my fight plan
Allow me to demonstrate domination thru the lyrics
And break y'all off something pugilistic
Round 1 he comes out strong trying to bull me with the ropes
And succeeds only to be countered and rope-a-doped
Humiliated, embarrassed as the shots land flush
And I ain't even lookin at him while I punch
I'm just stickin and movin and jabbin and grabbin and blindin
And findin and landin my shots
So heavily I've hit him with everything in the ring except the referree
Punches continue to rise in numbers
My fists do the talking, call me a volume puncher
Frustration and fatigue got his punches gettin wider
Makin it easy for me, I'm comin right beside em
Now my backs to this corner, I'm bein an entertainer
He's missin I'm tauntin I'm takin cheap shots on this trainer
Somewhere deep inside he must be admiring my grace
As I'm back peddlin, doin bag drills on his face
He's tryin to bob and weave, but he's drowning in the rushes
And Compubox numbers lost count of all the punches
He's walking to his corner, I'm still swinging
The round aint even over, I just hit him so hard, he heard bells ringin
Havin dreams of how he defeated me in an easy bout
Then wakin up in the middle of his sleep tryin to beat the count
When he's back up I'm poundin on his jaw, he's walkin away cryin like Oliver McCall
The ref has seen enough after all there's so much blood
They thinkin that I smuggled a ring stool in my glove
Check my raps, it must be plaster all over the gauze
The way my fist print was plastered all over his jaws
Beat him till his shit prints was plastered all over his draws
And his shorty's lip prints was plastered all over my damn
I hit cats hard and look good doin it
I was watchin myself thru the reflection in his glass jaw
Larry Merchant, Jim Lampley
Letterman and Kellerman and Steward know it's plain to see
So they can't even hate on me
Line em up and watch me dance circles round these guys
Leave em with black purplish circles round they eyes
I'm down for 85 rounds, 18th century bare knuckle style
London prize rules, the 30 second count
Pound for pound, kilo for kilo, lyric for lyric
However you want to weigh it, I swear to em I'm the greatest
And just so I don't permanently damage ya, i'll even let you wear the head gear
Besides you fight like an amateur, plus u fightin amateurs
And old battered fellas
So all I see is a paper champ with a padded record
I can tell hope from hype
Prospects from suspects, victors from victims
You're the latter of the subjects, he don't want to bang wit me
His corner men had to push em down the aisle
Just to get him in the ring with me
Cuz I swing quickly, the leave ya brain dizzy
Take your fans, your promoters, your title and dame with me
I came from the sugar cane of the sweet science
Leonards, Robinsons and Sugar Shanes of the sweet science
Execution of B. Hop, combinations of Roy
Agility of Pernell, accuracy of Floyd
Tenacity of Hagler, toughness of Smokin Joe
Domination of Ali and Iron Mike on the flow
Only difference between me and mike is the slug
I'll never get knocked out by a busta... get it
I've combined the greatest of all time into mine
So I'm nice, I've got a brawler's heart with a boxer's mind
When I fight it's a thing of beauty this is my place
And even if you over 135 you light weight
I finish fighters early with my punches cuz where I'm from
You never want your fate to be determined by no judges
So I fight for my respect, fight for my survival
Fight for my fans, fight against my rivals
Fight for my pride, fight because I'm ridin
Die tryin to fight the power like Jack Johnson
So you'll never see my greatest hits on mix tape
Cuz if you see my greatest hits, they'll be sent to your face
M'guaranteed to give you hell from bell to bell and beyond
Induct me in canastota the sharpest of all time
Virtuoso in his prime and even in my decline, the hardest
Y'all make hits I'm a knock out artist
Black Eyes Matter Video (MV)
Drew Da Picture - Black Eyes Matter Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Standing in the red and blue corner
Looking built to brawl
Weighin in at a catch weight too big for y'all
With an impressive record
No wins losses or draws in the process
Cuz every bout scored a no contest
Drew Da Picture, tempt me tempt me
Knock out artists call me emcee dempsey
Who want to step up like they the big man on campus
To get rocked and is da big man on campus
His blood will be the pain and the ring will be the canvas
It's a masterpiece, illustrating how I do damage
They keep my hands in raps cuz they say they're lethal weapons
For me it's a sparring session for you it's a boxing lesson
I'm an MGM Grand, Garden, top prize fighter
You more like a not quite ready for prime time fighter
A Versus Network, not even friday night's fighter
A built but, built up not that nice fighter
I'm the champ, but still I'm the number 1 contender
You the chump, more like the number 1 pretender
Don't call me by no other name
You're Ernie Terell I'm Cassius Clay
I mean ali, so I'm gonna beat that ass screamin what's my name
Now if I told u I was nice with my hands
That was a lie cuz there aint nothing nice bout these hands
I'm a slick south paw in a conventional stance
And I move quite fast you'll swear you was fightin flash
I flurry an avalanche, a blindin speed attack
You won't even see the punches till they comin back
Lead, counter, lead, I mix it up like a dj
And they couldn't slow the combos down on an instant replay
Not to mention that I got the kind of punch power
To make every 3 minute round feel like 3 hours
And the ring savvy to negate your punch power
Momentum won't swing in my direction cuz i'll counter
My fight plans to treat em like a safe when I go in
And try some different combinations till I bust em open
I'll hit you with so many lefts, i'll violate your rights, yes
So many 1-2s, you'll think we're doin a mic check
Exhaust em wear em out and hit em in the clinches
Mentally surrender as I render em defenseless
I'll walk em down and take away his legs and wind till he don't move
And his corners callin on him but we're fightin in the phone booth
Show him the ropes and keep him on em then forget it
I come from all angles, better check your geometrics
I'll batter him and baffle him and bludgeon him and punish him
And blindside a fighter standin directly in front of him
Such an arsenal of ways to land my left right hand
That even teddy atlas would wanna borrow my fight plan
Allow me to demonstrate domination thru the lyrics
And break y'all off something pugilistic
Round 1 he comes out strong trying to bull me with the ropes
And succeeds only to be countered and rope-a-doped
Humiliated, embarrassed as the shots land flush
And I ain't even lookin at him while I punch
I'm just stickin and movin and jabbin and grabbin and blindin
And findin and landin my shots
So heavily I've hit him with everything in the ring except the referree
Punches continue to rise in numbers
My fists do the talking, call me a volume puncher
Frustration and fatigue got his punches gettin wider
Makin it easy for me, I'm comin right beside em
Now my backs to this corner, I'm bein an entertainer
He's missin I'm tauntin I'm takin cheap shots on this trainer
Somewhere deep inside he must be admiring my grace
As I'm back peddlin, doin bag drills on his face
He's tryin to bob and weave, but he's drowning in the rushes
And Compubox numbers lost count of all the punches
He's walking to his corner, I'm still swinging
The round aint even over, I just hit him so hard, he heard bells ringin
Havin dreams of how he defeated me in an easy bout
Then wakin up in the middle of his sleep tryin to beat the count
When he's back up I'm poundin on his jaw, he's walkin away cryin like Oliver McCall
The ref has seen enough after all there's so much blood
They thinkin that I smuggled a ring stool in my glove
Check my raps, it must be plaster all over the gauze
The way my fist print was plastered all over his jaws
Beat him till his shit prints was plastered all over his draws
And his shorty's lip prints was plastered all over my damn
I hit cats hard and look good doin it
I was watchin myself thru the reflection in his glass jaw
Larry Merchant, Jim Lampley
Letterman and Kellerman and Steward know it's plain to see
So they can't even hate on me
Line em up and watch me dance circles round these guys
Leave em with black purplish circles round they eyes
I'm down for 85 rounds, 18th century bare knuckle style
London prize rules, the 30 second count
Pound for pound, kilo for kilo, lyric for lyric
However you want to weigh it, I swear to em I'm the greatest
And just so I don't permanently damage ya, i'll even let you wear the head gear
Besides you fight like an amateur, plus u fightin amateurs
And old battered fellas
So all I see is a paper champ with a padded record
I can tell hope from hype
Prospects from suspects, victors from victims
You're the latter of the subjects, he don't want to bang wit me
His corner men had to push em down the aisle
Just to get him in the ring with me
Cuz I swing quickly, the leave ya brain dizzy
Take your fans, your promoters, your title and dame with me
I came from the sugar cane of the sweet science
Leonards, Robinsons and Sugar Shanes of the sweet science
Execution of B. Hop, combinations of Roy
Agility of Pernell, accuracy of Floyd
Tenacity of Hagler, toughness of Smokin Joe
Domination of Ali and Iron Mike on the flow
Only difference between me and mike is the slug
I'll never get knocked out by a busta... get it
I've combined the greatest of all time into mine
So I'm nice, I've got a brawler's heart with a boxer's mind
When I fight it's a thing of beauty this is my place
And even if you over 135 you light weight
I finish fighters early with my punches cuz where I'm from
You never want your fate to be determined by no judges
So I fight for my respect, fight for my survival
Fight for my fans, fight against my rivals
Fight for my pride, fight because I'm ridin
Die tryin to fight the power like Jack Johnson
So you'll never see my greatest hits on mix tape
Cuz if you see my greatest hits, they'll be sent to your face
M'guaranteed to give you hell from bell to bell and beyond
Induct me in canastota the sharpest of all time
Virtuoso in his prime and even in my decline, the hardest
Y'all make hits I'm a knock out artist
Looking built to brawl
Weighin in at a catch weight too big for y'all
With an impressive record
No wins losses or draws in the process
Cuz every bout scored a no contest
Drew Da Picture, tempt me tempt me
Knock out artists call me emcee dempsey
Who want to step up like they the big man on campus
To get rocked and is da big man on campus
His blood will be the pain and the ring will be the canvas
It's a masterpiece, illustrating how I do damage
They keep my hands in raps cuz they say they're lethal weapons
For me it's a sparring session for you it's a boxing lesson
I'm an MGM Grand, Garden, top prize fighter
You more like a not quite ready for prime time fighter
A Versus Network, not even friday night's fighter
A built but, built up not that nice fighter
I'm the champ, but still I'm the number 1 contender
You the chump, more like the number 1 pretender
Don't call me by no other name
You're Ernie Terell I'm Cassius Clay
I mean ali, so I'm gonna beat that ass screamin what's my name
Now if I told u I was nice with my hands
That was a lie cuz there aint nothing nice bout these hands
I'm a slick south paw in a conventional stance
And I move quite fast you'll swear you was fightin flash
I flurry an avalanche, a blindin speed attack
You won't even see the punches till they comin back
Lead, counter, lead, I mix it up like a dj
And they couldn't slow the combos down on an instant replay
Not to mention that I got the kind of punch power
To make every 3 minute round feel like 3 hours
And the ring savvy to negate your punch power
Momentum won't swing in my direction cuz i'll counter
My fight plans to treat em like a safe when I go in
And try some different combinations till I bust em open
I'll hit you with so many lefts, i'll violate your rights, yes
So many 1-2s, you'll think we're doin a mic check
Exhaust em wear em out and hit em in the clinches
Mentally surrender as I render em defenseless
I'll walk em down and take away his legs and wind till he don't move
And his corners callin on him but we're fightin in the phone booth
Show him the ropes and keep him on em then forget it
I come from all angles, better check your geometrics
I'll batter him and baffle him and bludgeon him and punish him
And blindside a fighter standin directly in front of him
Such an arsenal of ways to land my left right hand
That even teddy atlas would wanna borrow my fight plan
Allow me to demonstrate domination thru the lyrics
And break y'all off something pugilistic
Round 1 he comes out strong trying to bull me with the ropes
And succeeds only to be countered and rope-a-doped
Humiliated, embarrassed as the shots land flush
And I ain't even lookin at him while I punch
I'm just stickin and movin and jabbin and grabbin and blindin
And findin and landin my shots
So heavily I've hit him with everything in the ring except the referree
Punches continue to rise in numbers
My fists do the talking, call me a volume puncher
Frustration and fatigue got his punches gettin wider
Makin it easy for me, I'm comin right beside em
Now my backs to this corner, I'm bein an entertainer
He's missin I'm tauntin I'm takin cheap shots on this trainer
Somewhere deep inside he must be admiring my grace
As I'm back peddlin, doin bag drills on his face
He's tryin to bob and weave, but he's drowning in the rushes
And Compubox numbers lost count of all the punches
He's walking to his corner, I'm still swinging
The round aint even over, I just hit him so hard, he heard bells ringin
Havin dreams of how he defeated me in an easy bout
Then wakin up in the middle of his sleep tryin to beat the count
When he's back up I'm poundin on his jaw, he's walkin away cryin like Oliver McCall
The ref has seen enough after all there's so much blood
They thinkin that I smuggled a ring stool in my glove
Check my raps, it must be plaster all over the gauze
The way my fist print was plastered all over his jaws
Beat him till his shit prints was plastered all over his draws
And his shorty's lip prints was plastered all over my damn
I hit cats hard and look good doin it
I was watchin myself thru the reflection in his glass jaw
Larry Merchant, Jim Lampley
Letterman and Kellerman and Steward know it's plain to see
So they can't even hate on me
Line em up and watch me dance circles round these guys
Leave em with black purplish circles round they eyes
I'm down for 85 rounds, 18th century bare knuckle style
London prize rules, the 30 second count
Pound for pound, kilo for kilo, lyric for lyric
However you want to weigh it, I swear to em I'm the greatest
And just so I don't permanently damage ya, i'll even let you wear the head gear
Besides you fight like an amateur, plus u fightin amateurs
And old battered fellas
So all I see is a paper champ with a padded record
I can tell hope from hype
Prospects from suspects, victors from victims
You're the latter of the subjects, he don't want to bang wit me
His corner men had to push em down the aisle
Just to get him in the ring with me
Cuz I swing quickly, the leave ya brain dizzy
Take your fans, your promoters, your title and dame with me
I came from the sugar cane of the sweet science
Leonards, Robinsons and Sugar Shanes of the sweet science
Execution of B. Hop, combinations of Roy
Agility of Pernell, accuracy of Floyd
Tenacity of Hagler, toughness of Smokin Joe
Domination of Ali and Iron Mike on the flow
Only difference between me and mike is the slug
I'll never get knocked out by a busta... get it
I've combined the greatest of all time into mine
So I'm nice, I've got a brawler's heart with a boxer's mind
When I fight it's a thing of beauty this is my place
And even if you over 135 you light weight
I finish fighters early with my punches cuz where I'm from
You never want your fate to be determined by no judges
So I fight for my respect, fight for my survival
Fight for my fans, fight against my rivals
Fight for my pride, fight because I'm ridin
Die tryin to fight the power like Jack Johnson
So you'll never see my greatest hits on mix tape
Cuz if you see my greatest hits, they'll be sent to your face
M'guaranteed to give you hell from bell to bell and beyond
Induct me in canastota the sharpest of all time
Virtuoso in his prime and even in my decline, the hardest
Y'all make hits I'm a knock out artist
Writer: Andrew Hames
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid