Kane *singing*]

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?



[Kane *rapping*]

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 wanna 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 dammmmmmmmn sham

I'm glad in this business I didn't forget who I am

I always remain the Kane inside a battle

*singing* 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 caue 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-U-T's, like the U-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 fantasitic and this one here

We're callin it Lyrical Gymnastics



Uhh, so baby baby c'mon

Aw yeah baby c'mon, and check the rhymes to the song

Uhh, ah baby baby c'mon

Suki suki c'mon, and I'm gone