Can I Kick It (Holladay)

[Produced by Rob Holladay]

I can't get no satisfaction

Why? I'm in a whole 'nother class of rappin'

Fast for 40 days and 40 nights

Until I walked on the moon like Swagger Jackson

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's an epic tale

They saw my names on the forums and the blogs

And they said he's a herb, he's a lame, it's an epic fail

FOH, SMH, nigga LOL

But what they don't understand is important

To statistics I'm supposed to be hangin' from my neck in jail

Or on a slab in the mortuary freezin'

With a blank stare on my face lettin' off a wretched smell

I'm from the land of the smokin' gun, smokin' dices

On the run with the Christ of the poltergeists

Duckin' death, chasin' life like an ambulance

Candyman, USB Flip Cam handy man

You'll never catch me slippin' on the Grassy Knoll

Or at the bottom of a well screamin', "Lassie, no!"

I never spit nothin' lesser than a nasty cold

I'm from the era of Giselle shades and flashy gold

Bear Ballys and Girbauds and a classy low

A pretty dime with a neck full of baby powder

Puttin' time in, tryna get a baby out her

Pull her hair, squeeze her neck, bring the crazy out her

Beatin' it... oh oh yeah...