U Can’t Handle This

Lyrics

[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 nigga I ain't playin with you bitches! A lotta you niggas 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 Niggas 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 niggas Wasup wit dem niggas they talkin shit? You better go fuck wit anotha nigga You can't handle this! [Chorus] Oh shit, Motha Fucka! God Damn! x8 [mystikal] Certified rhyme busta Bitch Nigga, Bitch nigga Same nigga, from "Not That Nigga" But that nigga 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 niggas 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 niggas dont want no troubles [Chorus x8] [mystikal] I know ya'll niggas know better than to fuck wit tha man Dont ya (dont ya)? Nigga dont you know what my style can't be poached And every nigga n they mama, probably got beef wit somebody But ask that same nigga 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 nigga couldn't out roll me on skates! Im the surprise The gasoline on your fire, Got em dodging Michael Tyler! The drunken fighter Yall Niggas can't do what I do! (man fuck that nigga) 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 nigga with ta mess with You get tha flatback like rambo Bitch You can't handle this! [Chorus till fade] (11 times)