[mystikal talking]
You would if you could
But you can't
So you ain't

[mystikal]

The minute I step in dis bitch
I hear Oh shit Mothafucka, God Damn!
Watch out for dat n***a
You can't handle em
For a period of time
Noone can match those rhymes to mine
Im top of the line
Prickin your ass like a porcupine
I know what to do to knock your stupid ass so bad It ain't no challenge!
This ain't no mothafuckin fluke, This pure deep talent!
Im Gifted, Explicit mistressed and Explicit
Brand new home, same old n***a
I ain't playin with you bitches!
Why you n***as 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
N***as that got beef wit me
Better bring a heater
Or either bow down to me
Cut off you dick, jesus
Thats the reason Im fuckin wit n***as
Wasup wit dem n***as dats talkin shit
You better go fuck wit anotha n***a
You can't handle this!
[Chorus]
Oh shit, Motha Fucka! God Damn! x8

[mystikal]
Certified rhyme busta
Bitch N***a, Bitch n***a
Same n***a, If Im not that n***a
But that n***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 fuckin deck deader, then a bad woodpecker
I dont like n***as 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 rebocks
Ive got the gift thatll make a Bitch get off me
Spent like charles barkley
So bitch Dont 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 n***as dont want no trouble, Can't stop us
[Chorus x8]

[mystikal]
I know ya'll n***a know better than to fuck wit tha man
Dont ya (dont ya)
N***a dont you know what my style can't be poached
And every n***a around, probably got beef wit somebody
But thats the same n***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 n***a 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***as can't do what I do!
(man fuck that n***a)
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 n***a with ta mess
You get tha flatback like rambo Bitch
YOu can't handle this!
[Chorus till fade] (11 times)