Mortal Combat Big Daddy Kane

[Verse 1: Big Daddy Kane]
The kiss of death on a rap pick
Then you get a slap quick, so guard it with Chapstick
In other words, protect and hold your own
It only takes one punch to get ya head flown
Fists of fury, suckers get buried
'Cause the Kane got more spice than curry
I am the flavor down on paper
And nothin' could save ya from catchin' the vapors
Rhymes that'll sting your face like a quick jab
And I'm rubbin' 'em in just like Vicks salve
Captivatin', dominatin', innovatin', illustratin', fascinatin'
Motivatin', elevatin', terminatin', mutilatin'
Rhymes they're worth their weight in
Gold, bold, never sold to a bidder
That claim to glitter, you're so bitter like kitty litter
As for damage, don't tell me what another do
'Cause I quote that I'm R-A-W
So make room, 'cause fighters are doomed
Try to consume, and make your own tomb
A grave or a casket, a tisket, a tasket
You're rhymes out of basket
Boy, you get your ass kicked!
For frontin' like you hittin' hard
When your arms are too short to box with God
So don't even touch 'cause I come with too much
Address and bless any mic that I clutch
And for a rapper to challenge my freestyle, he must be senile
And that's why meanwhile, back at the ranch...
The brother Asiatic chosen one is expandin' with a new branch
So many slept on the nonchalant act
Now wake up, sucker, this is mortal combat!