Lyrical Gymnastics

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