What I'm used to hearin', I can't believe it's gone
Hittin' more skins than a boxing glove, good God
The girls treat me like the drummer and give me some
I leave you down on your knees, down on your knees
And none of you players can control me
Rappers today be comin' as the gangster rhyme type
But now just like a grill inside Burger King, the beef is on
That's the way the flavor always come
We might as well be havin' sex, the way that I put it in em
And with my competition I let it be known
The Brooklyn style 'cause that is where I'm from
The way I flow for you, do you know?
'Cause all the ladies I'm givin' 'em lots of love
A rapper off the map, with the rap, when I flow
That all of this is good to go, 'cause yo
Uhh, ah baby baby c'mon
I get rough G, and set it on your whole damn company
and put some real lyrics back in the hardcore
If you try to disrespect, kid you can get these
Aw yeah baby c'mon, and check the rhymes to the song
Uhh, so baby baby c'mon
I do my own thing, I do a thing of my own
Settin' the tone that make the girls relax and moan
Man, I'm a bad cat, my style of rap is mad fat
Razor sharp, many ways of art
When I come, rappers begin to speak in degrees
If my rhymes was in braille, you still couldn't touch 'em
One double nine to the four, gotta keep em on the floor
'Cause the Kane get more paper than a fax machine
And I hope the record consumers don't believe the magazine rumors
Amazin' the people the style of the rapppin', is quite fat
My rap style is like a poisonous venom
With skills to pay the bills, to make more stacks than
The unforgettable, rhymes are too poetical
And do I crush MC's, are you kiddin' me?
The razor bumps on your throat is the only thing makin' you a ruffneck
We're callin' it Lyrical Gymnastics
I always remain the Kane inside a battle
Uhh, aw yeah baby c'mon
N-U-T's, like the U-N-V's
For kickin' the flows so fantastic and this one here
And this is for all of the rappers that like, and they bite that
Is like Freddy with the glove full of knives
As many rappers I burnt, I should open a crematorium
Ah baby baby c'mon, check the rhyme to the song
Be for real, you ain't tough yet
I make mad MC's give me my P's
I'm glad in this business I didn't forget who I am
I even make sisters with voices weak in the knees
I pull you one verse, if that don't kill I got refills
When I get through, there'll be no more of them
Watch out Goldie! Gimme a forty ounce of Olde E
Never to walk in anyone's shadow
The rhymes they flow accordin' to the drum
You want the funk so let me give you some
If rappers were grapes, I'd have a whole wine distillery
Here's the news, you lettin' the word hardcore be misused
You ain't never paid dues
Ah baby baby c'mon, and check the rhyme to the song
You get the chance to see a true mack man
And you know, sometimes it's so sad that
The Smooth Operator is mellow with the saxophone
Keep rappers in order more than letters put alphabetical
Who wanna test these skills, come see how it feels
I'm lickin' the lyrics and shootin' the gat, on the mic black
I flip on the flow on the track, just like that
So run for your lives, Kane with the pen
Then hit you with the skill that is ill, and I know
You can't do me none, kid you gets nothin'
Your whole image is a damn sham
Taller than anybody else's stacks it seem
Source rings the chart, people praise the God
that battles I don't lose none, boy you get bruised son
And Bogart, like my name was Humphrey
Yeah baby c'mon
Six million ways to die, choose one
So, I bring it to your face, with the bass, then I blow
'Cause Kane is makin' a comeback, like Puma's
And be so soft, they wouldn't even kill time right
From tall to short to thick, even the slimmie ones
