U Can't Handle This

You would if you could

But you can't

So you ain't

The minute I step in dis bitch

I hear Oh shit Mothafucka, God Damn!

Watch out there now young fella

You can't handle em

For a period of time

Noone can match those rhymes to mine

Im top of the line

Genuine, sharp like a porcupine

I know what to do to knock your stupid ass off balance you ain't no challenge!

This ain't no mothafuckin fluke, This pure d talent!

Im Gifted, Explicit mistressed and Explicit

Brand new album, same old ****

I ain't playin with you bitches!

A lotta you **** be rappin

Like your scared and unprepared

Im gonn have ya leave this mothafucka sayin Whatd that mothafucka 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

**** that got beef wit me

Better bring a heater

Or either bow down to me

Cut off you dick, jesus

Thats the reason I don't fuck wit ****

Wasup wit dem **** they talkin shit?

You better go fuck wit anotha ****

You can't handle this!

Oh shit, Motha Fucka! God Damn! x8

Certified rhyme busta

Bitch ****, Bitch ****

Same ****, from "Not That ****"

But that **** from punks, still come with the rif raf

Went from gold teeth, to gold chains

I went from club chains, to Soul Train!

Fire like cayenne pepper

Like capone, hot stepper

Keep your fuckin neck pecking, like a bad woodpecker

I dont like **** tryin ta run up on my shit and set

Im the tarantula on the catipillar, Bitch ill kill ya

Catch more attention, then oriental peacocks

Phat rhymes, Hot tracks, A full room of reebox

Ive got the gift thatll make a Bitch get off me

Spit like Charles Barkley

So bitch Dont start me!

Whos that click?

Use to be mobbin in my hood

Beware! Here I go!

Shit that boy good!

Come like, there I was

When were yall idiots in the cut?

Crazy Hacksaw Jim Dugan

Yall **** dont want no troubles

I know ya'll **** know better than to fuck wit tha man

Dont ya (dont ya)?

**** dont you know what my style can't be poached

And every **** n they mama, probably got beef wit somebody

But ask that same **** for twenty dollars

I ain't got it (i ain't got it)

When underground rules, will be tha day

When them braids start to shaking

Another **** couldn't out roll me on skates!

Im the surprise

The gasoline on your fire, Got em dodging

Michael Tyler! The drunken fighter

Yall **** can't do what I do!

(man fuck that ****)

Naw Motherfuck you!

Good lord, the rhymes come through so hardcore

Bitch I got it if you bad enuff to take it

Its yours!

A lyrical ass whoopin

Is what im cookin

Hungry, Spittin all over your room when you wasn't lookin

Ain't no canibus, the wrong **** with ta mess with

You get tha flatback like rambo Bitch

You can't handle this!

[Chorus till fade] (11 times)