TKO - Doc Jay: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

TKO

4

Hip-Hop/Rap

TKO was released on December 15, 2025 by Creative Mindz Records as a part of the album M.O.A.K

Song Details

Release DateDecember 15, 2025

LabelCreative Mindz Records

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM70

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Doc Jay

Rap

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Josh Vides

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Doc Jay

Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

I don't beef on the 'net, boy, I'm not with the typin'—

I'm the type to catch you lackin', have you pray for enlightenment.

Opps talk tough till I spin with the mightiest right hand,

Turn your whole block into a goddamn retirement.

Ayy, fuck what you heard, I'm the name they respect,

Put a price on your head, that's a chain on your neck.

You ain't never outside, boy, you stay on the steps,

I'll make your mama do a GoFundMe just to pay for what's left.

I'm a different type of evil when I'm bored and annoyed,

Let a bullet hit your chest, have it sing like Lloyd.

Let my youngins do the job, they don't talk, they deploy,

Have your body in the trunk like a brand-new toy.

You the type to diss first, then hide behind law,

I'm the type to walk in, no mask, no draw.

Two-piece to your jaw, leave your face on the wall—

Your whole squad full of pussies, I just spay 'em and all.

Fuck my opps, I want 'em all in a row.

Line 'em up—who the fuck want smoke?

If we swingin', I'm landin' every blow,

This that TKO, bitch — you already know.

Fuck my opps, I'ma send 'em back home,

Wrap 'em up like a Christmas bow.

Talk that shit, but you won't let it show—

This that TKO, bitch — round 3, lights out.

You ain't never in the field, you just playin' the game,

I got hitters who'll spin if I mention your name.

Keep talkin' on the net, that's a bitch-boy trait,

We pull up, you fold fast like a cheap buffet.

I'm on demon time—

You ain't even on decent time.

My opps weak as hell—

Your whole set need a redesign.

Boy, your top gon' split when the beam align,

Have your soul float up when the reaper signs.

You scream online? I squeeze on mine,

Bullets crash in your chest like a DUI.

Ayy, your girl hit my line, askin' "Who you with?"

I told her "Anybody but you, lil' bitch."

Then I sent her back to you with a Uber trip—

She had my kids on her face like a movie script.

I'm disrespectful—

But that's what war look like.

I hope every single opp in your corner shook tonight.

Your big homie ain't tough, he just book-smart light,

I'll knock his head off clean like a good sharp knife.

Fuck my opps, I want 'em all in a row.

Line 'em up—who the fuck want smoke?

If we swingin', I'm landin' every blow,

This that TKO, bitch — you already know.

Fuck my opps, I'ma send 'em back home,

Wrap 'em up like a Christmas bow.

Talk that shit, but you won't let it show—

This that TKO, bitch — you already know

Written by: Josh Vides

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