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K21 - Rap Game Travolta

[Segue from "The Baaadest"]

[Interlude 1: Brett]
I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name

[Verse 1]
Just call me K, let me talk me smack
Handle minds, I do it all like that
Let loose on a troop till he falls right back
The one man army kicking war time rap
Just Pulp Fiction, not a story track
Till the truth is here and they're taught the math
But before all that I'm sure you'll add it up
By the time Faint One's gonna scratch the cut
The promoters said, "Next track, you’re up"
"Who, me? {Chuckles} Nah, where’s your head at?
I’m not playin' till I get a bowl of green M&M's
And Headlock and Kirk bring the Premium Blend back"
Another rugrat who leaped from the pen
Crawled to the club, now I'm gonna leave with a ten pack
Dead that, I'ma leave to invent tracks
That'll make your head crack with no lead bat
Putt fire in the sky, call me Deodato
With a baby-face, it ain't Leonardo, but
Everything I utter on a beats staccato
With an appetite that'll eat your half-notes
Make iller-noise, never seen Chicago
Moon cans I'm rocking fresh off the crater
So your special move won't ever do a thing
When I react and I'm coming with a combo breaker
Now say goodnight
Save the encore and fade the lights
Terminate every name on sight
When the day goes night I'ma make it right
Do it even if doesn't make a right
Although still i ain't lying dormant
And I ain't living by the book
'Cause I'd rather be living it like an author, [?]
[Interlude 2: Vincent Vega & Mia Wallace]
MIA WALLACE: So, did you think of something to say?
VINCENT VEGA: Actually, I did. However, you seem like a really nice person—I don't want to offend you
WALLACE: Ooh! This doesn't sound like the usual mindless, boring, getting-to-know-you chit-chat. This sounds like you have something to say
VEGA: Well, well, I do... I do. But, you have to promise not to be offended

[Verse 2]
Solemnly sold my soul
Ain't something that you'd fix with solder
Live that Martian life, that's why every year
I manage to get colder
And for every other rapper that'll talk that smack
Like, "Man, his style is old"
I made a peace sign, turned it round for
Then started dancing like Travolta
D—D—Dancing like Travolta
But, but I take to the heart like Uma
Went on tour with the Hoods twenty shows
And I roll around with the same nasty Pumas
Still, half cyborg, half producer
With no heart to lose, that would be hard to do
So if I ain't the number one I'm on the path to soon
'Cause I'm assuming the position like Kama Sutra
And I ain't slowing, how? I just go all out
And never know the round or throw the towel
You're over now whenever I roam the town
I'ma make 'em all scream like Rose Mcgowan
That Conan sound I only wrote to pound
So profound, from the coast I'm bound to be the dopest found
And to the centre too I'm unforgettable
To every fool up on a pedestal I'll throw them down
Oh, what's now?
Straight in the door, coming through, run it with the misfits
And all these other motherfuckers wanna hate
And get all mad at me because they think I stuck it in their missus?
Here's a funnel you can piss in
And wear my shoes if you really think you're running in my distance
Try and gun it like a piston
I wish you all the best, can a motherfucker get a witness?
[Interlude 3: Jules Winnfield & Vincent Vega]
JULES WINNFIELD: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord...
WINNFIELD: Say 'what' again. Say 'what' again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker, say what one more goddamn time!
WINNFIELD: Oh, you ready to blow?
VINCENT VEGA: Yeah, I’m ready to blow
WINNFIELD: Well I’m a mushroom cloud layin’ motherfucker, motherfucker. Every time my fingers touch brain, I’m "Superfly TNT"