You Can’t Touch Me

By Clipse

On Exclusive Audio Footage

Released on 1999

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[Intro: Malice]

Clip niggas

It's not a game, Star Trak

It's like that, what, check it

Yo, yo


[Verse 1: Malice]

Yo, 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

Pardon us for the C4s and the started street wars

Better 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, fort of 50 split, roundtable style


[Hook: Pusha T]

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids (What?)

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?


[Verse 2: Nako aka Fam-Lay]

Nigga, we comin' for ya

Four deep in the Explorer

Poetic torture, enchanted tales 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, hide – burners topside

We're like the dark 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 herbs you live wit'

'Cause this is too explicit for your bitch clique


[Hook: Pusha T]

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?


[Verse 3: Lee Harvey]

Gray raised coupe, being chased by state troops

Four blockin' escape routes,;firm grip, knowing these jakes shoot

Check the rear view – 8 jakes, tailgatin' V-shaped

Handcuff the briefcase, whip's stolen, plus it need plates

Throw the coke out, exchange shots, windows broke out

All or nothing, two guns, both of them smoked out

Tire blow out, slight spin, 'til it don't end

I'm leaned to one side, sparks fly, ridin' on rims

High adrenaline, exiting as if surrending

A quick desperate attempt – sixteen, sent in 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 shouted to "Freeze"

Fuck naw – I'ma die, let Christ decide my fate

Try my best to empty both clips, sayin' goodbyes with hate


[Hook: Pusha T]

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?


[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 is no remorse, mind cluttered wit' thoughts

Young'ns out like I-95, they only cost

Caught up in the fame that 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 is sickenin'

Mr. Claus to these bitches

So my dogs play Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen

These cheap coke niggas got me actin' irate

Enough bake 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 ties 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 fallin' off

Got you hustlers screamin' "call 'em off"

We runnin' through your town, in priest growns, draped over sawed offs

Drug habits, opposite end, we full of sin

Compare ones, pull guns, to separate mice from men


[Hook: Pusha T]

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?

You can't touch me – I got Scuds, love, wit' no lids

Clipse with bricks for buildin' pyramids

The beginnin' is my end, nigga, fuck friends

Bills, hundreds, thousands, what's 10's?