mystikal – u can’t handle this lyrics
[mystikal talking]
you would if you could
but you can’t
so you ain’t
[mystikal]
the minute i step in dis b-tch
i hear oh sh-t mothaf-cka, god d-mn!
watch out for dat n-gga
you can’t handle em
for a period of time
noone can match those rhymes to mine
im top of the line
pr-ckin your -ss like a porcupine
i know what to do to knock your stupid -ss so bad it ain’t no challenge!
this ain’t no mothaf-ckin fluke, this pure deep talent!
im gifted, explicit mistressed and explicit
brand new home, same old n-gga
i ain’t playin with you b-tches!
why you n-ggas be rappin
like your scared and unprepared
im gonn have ya leave this mothaf-cka sayin whatd that mothaf-cka said?
gimme the bud, the weed i puff like elvis and the beetles
that gets blazed, then a couple soft mc’s on pins and needles
n-ggas that got beef wit me
better bring a heater
or either bow down to me
cut off you d-ck, jesus
thats the reason im f-ckin wit n-ggas
wasup wit dem n-ggas dats talkin sh-t
you better go f-ck wit anotha n-gga
you can’t handle this!
[chorus]
oh sh-t, motha f-cka! god d-mn! x8
[mystikal]
certified rhyme busta
b-tch n-gga, b-tch n-gga
same n-gga, if im not that n-gga
but that n-gga from punks, still come with the rif raf
went from gold diggin, ta gold chains
i went from club train, ta soul train!
fightin like a wild coyote
like capone, hot seller
keep your f-ckin deck deader, then a bad woodp-ck-r
i dont like n-ggas tryin ta run up on my sh-t and set
im the tarantula on the catipillar, b-tch ill k!ll ya
catch more attention, then oriental peac-cks
phat rhymes, hot tracks, a full room of rebocks
ive got the gift thatll make a b-tch get off me
spent like charles barkley
so b-tch dont start me!
whos that cl!ck?
use to be mobbin in my hood
beware! here i go!
get that boy good
come like, there i was
when were yall idiots in the cut?
i raise the hacksaw, you jump back
now yall n-ggas dont want no trouble, can’t stop us
[chorus x8]
[mystikal]
i know ya’ll n-gga know better than to f-ck wit tha man
dont ya (dont ya)
n-gga dont you know what my style can’t be poached
and every n-gga around, probably got beef wit somebody
but thats the same n-gga between the fighters
i ain’t got it (i ain’t got it)
when underground rules, will be tha day
my legs start to shake
another n-gga couldn’t off throw me on skates!
im the supplier
the gasoline on your fire, got em dodge em
michael tyler! the drunken fighter
yall n-ggas can’t do what i do!
(man f-ck that n-gga)
naw motherf-ck you!
good lord, the rhymes come through so hardcore
b-tch i got it if you bad enuff to take it
its yours!
a lyrical -ss whoopin
is what im cookin
hungry, spittin all over your room when you wasn’t lookin
ain’t no canibus, the wrong n-gga with ta mess
you get tha flatback like rambo b-tch
you can’t handle this!
[chorus till fade] (11 times)
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