[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 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 n***a
I ain't playin with you bitches!
A lotta 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 I don't fuck wit n***as
Wasup wit dem n***as they 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, from "Not That N***a"
But that n***a 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 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 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 n***as dont want no troubles
[Chorus x8]

[mystikal]
I know ya'll n***as 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 n they mama, probably got beef wit somebody
But ask that same n***a 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 n***a couldn't out roll me on skates!
Im the surprise
The gasoline on your fire, Got em dodging
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 with
You get tha flatback like rambo Bitch
You can't handle this!
[Chorus till fade] (11 times)