U Can't Handle This-Mystikal

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**ch I hear Oh sh*t Mothaf**ka, God Damn! Watch out for dat ni**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 a** like a porcupine I know what to do to knock your stupid a** so bad It aint no challenge! This aint no mothaf**kin fluke, This pure deep talent! Im Gifted, Explicit mistressed and Explicit Brand new home, same old ni**a I aint playin with you b**ches! Why you niggaz be rappin Like your scared and unprepared Im gonn have ya leave this mothaf**ka sayin Whatd that mothaf**ka said? Gimme the bud, the w**d I puff like elvis and the beetles That gets blazed, then a couple soft MC's on pins and needles Niggaz that got beef wit me Better bring a heater Or either bow down to me Cut off you dick, jesus That's the reason Im f**kin wit niggaz Wasup wit dem niggaz dats talkin sh*t You better go f**k wit anotha ni**a You can't handle this! [chorus] Oh sh*t, Motha F**ka! God Damn! [x8] [mystikal] Certified rhyme busta B**ch Ni**a, B**ch ni**a Same ni**a, If Im not that ni**a But that ni**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 f**kin deck deader, then a bad woodpecker I don't like niggaz tryin ta run up on my sh*t and set Im the tarantula on the catipillar, B**ch I'll kill ya Catch more attention, then oriental peacocks Phat rhymes, Hot tracks, A full room of rebocks Ive got the gift thatll make a B**ch get off me Spent like charles barkley So b**ch 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 niggaz don't want no trouble, can't stop us [chorus x8] [mystikal] I know ya'll ni**a know better than to f**k wit tha man Don't ya (don't ya) Ni**a don't you know what my style can't be poached And every ni**a around, probably got beef wit somebody But that's the same ni**a between the fighters I aint got it (i aint got it) When underground rules, will be tha day My legs start to shake Another ni**a couldnt off throw me on skates! Im the supplier The gasoline on your fire, Got em dodge em Michael Tyler! The drunken fighter Yall Niggaz can't do what I do! (man f**k that ni**a) Naw Motherf**k you! Good lord, the rhymes come through so hardcore B**ch I got it if you bad enuff to take it Its yours! A lyrical a** whoopin Is what im cookin Hungry, Spittin all over your room when you wasn't lookin Aint no canibus, the wrong ni**a with ta mess You get tha flatback like rambo B**ch YOu can't handle this! [chorus till fade] [11 times]