Cover art for You Can’t Touch Me by Clipse

You Can’t Touch Me

Featuring

Produced by

19991 viewer

You Can’t Touch Me Lyrics

[Intro - Malice]
Clip niggas
It's not a game, Star Trak
It's like that, what, check it
Yo, yo, yo

[Verse 1 - Malice]
It's the final curtain, we black masks and black turbans
Lightin' up the sky in a black Suburban
We on the late night streetsweep, hit at least three

The price you pay and it ain't cheap, make his frame leak
When we speak, our dialogue consist of flame heat
Cop the brick, flipped it twice and all in the same week
Flee the sirens, hit the highlands, or the islands

All up in the loft with some chick from Thailand
Cause you ain't lived 'til you empty clips, whip the Syclone
With enough chips for one crib in each time zone
Parted us for the C4s and started street wars
Bet a detour from this block and try and keep yours
Cause if down here, we play not, niggas get got
Sendin' two through his red drop, make his pulse stop
How we roll is wit' no smiles, shit get so foul
Then we sit 40/50 split, round table style

[Hook x2]
You can't touch me, I got scuds, love, wit' no lens
Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids
The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends
Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's tens

[Verse 2 - Nako]
Nigga, we comin' for ya
Four deep in the Explorer
Poetic torture, enchanted tails of horror
Fuck what they taught ya, my torture scorches all sorts of
Individuals with chambers Hannibal thought of
The stick-up kids would love to stick me
They treat me like AIDS, they scared to get me
Too shook to get wit' me
To get me, mission's impossible, I got an arsenal
Of Glocks for any obstacle that you can imagine possible
Nako flow, kill slow, like carbon mo-
-noxide, tear your block high, burn his toxide

We're like the jocks side, Clipse, Virginia niggas
We live for figures, we're killas, who injure critters
What ya'll wanna do now
Got two Glocks, that's bustin' too loud
Nickel plate with no silencers
Known to move crowds, verbal liquid
Stick wit', them herds you live wit'
Cause this is too explicit for your bitch clique

[Hook x1]

[Verse 3 - Lee Harvey]
Gray race coupe, being chased by state troops
Four blockin' and escape routes, firm grip knowing he's Jake Shoop
Check the rear view, A.J's tailgatin' and V-shaped
Handcuff the briefcase, whip's stolen, plus it need plates
Stole the coke out, exchange shots, windows broke out
All or nothing, two guns, both of them smoked out
Tire blow out, slight spins 'til it don't end
On length of one side, sparks fly ridin' on rims
High adrenaline, accident as if surrendin'
A quick desperate attempt, sixteen, sendin' the wind
Flee on foot now, German Shepherds trackin' my steps
Helicopter overhead, I look up, slappin' my chest
Show I lack respect, runnin' hard through crowded streets
We have you surrounded special agents shout at to freeze
Fuck nah, I'mma die, let Christ decide my fate
Try my best to empty both clips, sayin' goodbyes with hate
[Hook x2]

[Verse 4 - Pusha T]
Yo, yo, we travel, wit' drugs in the dashboard
And flee from the task force
Quit hollerin' 'bout your ones
You got guns, nigga blast yours
Face's no remorse, mind cluttered wit' thoughts
Young'ns out like I-95's, they only cost
Caught up in the fame comes along with the street game
Don't forget about them head hunters, head hunting your name
Cause they seen and heard how niggas flyin' chicks in
Half-black, half-Hawaiian, believe my dick's in

The way they lust for the dough, it's sickenin'
Mr. Claus to these bitches

So my dogs play Dancer, Prancer and Vixen
These cheap coke niggas got me actin' irate
Enough fake on they blow to fuckin' spark a debate
Turn violent, eternal silence equals they fate
Cause they tried to get over, those niggas stepped on my weight
Now it's time for slug love, thug love too physical
I need to ensure everybody's condition's critical
Terrar no mask up, your family tie is strong
We'll, make 'em say your name three times, then blast on
Camaraderie, second to none like magnets
React first, think last, lay you in caskets

At any point we fallen off
Got you hustlers screamin' "call 'em off"
We runnin' through your town, in prescowns, dripped over sawed offs
Drug habits, opposite end, we full of sin
Compare ones, pull guns, to separate mice from men
[Hook x2]

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  1. 4.
    Interlude (Missing Lyrics)
  2. 7.
    Interlude 2 (Missing Lyrics)
  3. 11.
    Interlude 3 (Missing Lyrics)
  4. 13.
    Interlude 4 (Missing Lyrics)
  5. 15.
    You Can’t Touch Me
  6. 18.
    Diana Ross (Missing Lyrics)
  7. 20.
    Interlude 5 (Missing Lyrics)
Credits
Featuring
Produced By
Release Date
1999
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