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lirik lagu 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-tch
i hear oh sh-t mothaf-cka, god d-mn!
watch out for dat n-gg-
you can’t handle em
for a period of time
noone can match those rhymes to mine
im top of the line
prickin your -ss like a porcupine
i know what to do to knock your stupid -ss so bad it aint no challenge!
this aint no mothaf-ckin fluke, this pure deep talent!
im gifted, explicit mistressed and explicit
brand new home, same old n-gg-
i aint playin with you b-tches!
why you n-gg-z 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-gg-z that got beef wit me
better bring a heater
or either bow down to me
cut off you d-ck, jesus
that’s the reason im f-ckin wit n-gg-z
wasup wit dem n-gg-z dats talkin sh-t
you better go f-ck wit anotha n-gg-
you can’t handle this!

[chorus]
oh sh-t, motha f-cka! god d-mn! [x8]

[mystikal]
certified rhyme busta
b-tch n-gg-, b-tch n-gg-
same n-gg-, if im not that n-gg-
but that n-gg- 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 don’t like n-gg-z tryin ta run up on my sh-t and set
im the tarantula on the catipillar, b-tch i’ll kill 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 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 n-gg-z don’t want no trouble, can’t stop us

[chorus x8]

[mystikal]
i know ya’ll n-gg- know better than to f-ck wit tha man
don’t ya (don’t ya)
n-gg- don’t you know what my style can’t be poached
and every n-gg- around, probably got beef wit somebody
but that’s the same n-gg- between the fighters
i aint got it (i aint got it)
when underground rules, will be tha day
my legs start to shake
another n-gg- couldnt off throw me on skates!
im the supplier
the gasoline on your fire, got em dodge em
michael tyler! the drunken fighter
yall n-gg-z can’t do what i do!
(man f-ck that n-gg-)
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
aint no canibus, the wrong n-gg- with ta mess
you get tha flatback like rambo b-tch
you can’t handle this!

[chorus till fade] [11 times]

- mystikal

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