U Can’t Handle This - Mystikal

U Can't Handle This
Mystikal
[mystikal talking]
You would if you could
But you can't
So you ain't
[mystikal]
The minute I step in dis b**ch
I hear Oh sh*t Mothaf**ka, God Damn!
Watch out for dat ni**a
You can't handle em
For a period of time
Noone can match those rhymes to mine
I'm top of the line
Prickin your a**like a porcupine
I know what to do to knock your stupid a**so bad It ain't no challenge!
This ain't no mothaf**kin fluke, This pure deep talent!
I'm Gifted, Explicit mistressed and Explicit
Brand new home, same old ni**a
I ain't playin with you b**ches!
Why you niggaz be rappin
Like your scared and unprepared
I'm gonn have ya leave this mothaf**ka sayin Whatd that mothaf**ka said?
Gimme the bud, the w**d I puff like elvis and the beetles
That gets blazed, then a couple soft MC's on pins and needles
Niggaz that got beef wit me
Better bring a heater
Or either bow down to me
Cut off you dick, jesus
That's the reason I'm f**kin wit niggaz
Wasup wit dem niggaz dats talkin sh*t
You better go f**k wit anotha ni**a
You can't handle this!
[chorus]
Oh sh*t, Motha F**ka!God Damn![x8]
[mystikal]
Certified rhyme busta
B**ch Ni**a, B**ch ni**a
Same ni**a, If I'm not that ni**a
But that ni**a 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**kin deck deader, then a bad woodpecker
I don't like niggaz tryin ta run up on my sh*t and set
I'm the tarantula on the catipillar, B**ch I'll kill ya
Catch more attention, then oriental peacocks
Phat rhymes, Hot tracks, A full room of rebocks
I've got the gift thatll make a B**ch get off me
Spent like charles barkley
So b**ch don't start me!
Whos that click?
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 niggaz don't want no trouble, can't stop us
[chorus x8]
[mystikal]
I know ya'll ni**a know better than to f**k wit tha man
Don't ya (don't ya)
Ni**a don't you know what my style can't be poached
And every ni**a around, probably got beef wit somebody
But that's the same ni**a 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 ni**a couldn't off throw me on skates!
I'm the supplier
The gasoline on your fire, Got em dodge em
Michael Tyler!The drunken fighter
Yall Niggaz can't do what I do!
(man f**k that ni**a)
Naw Motherf**k you!
Good lord, the rhymes come through so hardcore
B**ch I got it if you bad enuff to take it
Its yours!
A lyrical a**whoopin
Is what i'm cookin
Hungry, Spittin all over your room when you wasn't lookin
Ain't no canibus, the wrong ni**a with ta mess
You get tha flatback like rambo B**ch
YOu can't handle this!
[chorus till fade][11 times]