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[Canibus] Yo, yo, yo // My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec’s and Mayan’s // Because I recognize it’s all about timing // Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science // In front of twenty foot bonfires // Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand // The nine planets’ll be in alignment // The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit // Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet // With mercury ion rockets // And a big ass, ‘Canibus coming soon’ poster on the side of it // I’m known geographically, and intergalactically // That’s why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me // They even tried kidnapping me // And they would’ve snatched me, if their craft didn’t get trapped in the Earth’s gravity // Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer’s field // And that’s really what caused Roswell // Undercover operatives working for COM twelve // Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal // Lyrically, I’m off-scale // So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y’all feel // Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens // Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles // Hear the wild wolf growl // Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds // Wack niggas wanna be down, but it’s not allowed // Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you’ll get punched in the mouth // With the Southpaw Southern fist // I’ll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp // For acting tough as shit, what a wimp // You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling // I’m an experiment gone bad // My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I’m stark raving mad // Your whole scientific staff’ll get killed in a nuclear blast // When I throw the Florence flask in my hand // Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass // Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts // Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga’s breath’ll last // I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass // With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag // Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh // ‘You wanna battle?’ is the type of question you should never ask // Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck’ll last // Whoever lose’ll get a soldering iron up the ass // You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye // Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives // A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can’t die // A nigga with a divine mind // I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames // Dividing myself into a hundred ten times // You can’t deny the offering’s an offer // Flows that glow with aurora’s that spark of light // Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche // Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins // Been getting it on, since I been born, and I’ma live long // And I’ma be getting it on ‘til I’m gone // Look at all the stages I’ve been on, all the songs that I’ve spit on // I took an oath to rip everything I get on // A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome // In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long // I’m just a small fish in a big pond // That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on // Nigga try to flip and get flipped on // My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on // Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits // And night vision goggles // A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form // With horns, and a mink on // Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong // Screaming, ‘incoming’ when I see a bomb // Speak to your leader, surrender your arms // You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds // Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war // And two hundred thousand more to even look hard // You better drop your flag and withdraw // My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors // And smash y’all, attach y’all to the back of my horse // And drag y’all across the motha fucking asphalt // Nine out of ten niggas is frauds // You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars // Your jewellery and your girls, it’s like we from two different worlds // You mother fuckers really get on my nerves // ‘Cause I’m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit // I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them // Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience // To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you’ve been thrown in a microwave oven // I flame broil suckers // And hit ‘em with some more shit, the raw shit // Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen // Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit // I dare a mother fucker to cross it // I’ll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning // Tell him it’s important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus // Break your camcorders so you motha fuckers can’t record it // Call the news, I’ll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I’ll kill your lawyers // Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y’all think // My album’s gold, ‘cause my album was the bomb, shit // Y’all niggas got your ass beat ‘cause you asked for it // Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid // ‘Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys // You fuck ‘em in the ass, then you give ‘em cash for it // That’s some sick shit homeboy // A hundred years ago, they’d have took you to see Sigmund Freud // You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is // With an effortless blow, I’ll crack your whole skeleton // You think you’re better than Canibus, where’s the evidence? // You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship // You need to shut the fuck up ‘cause your breath stinks // Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints // Battling me, you’ll never win // You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again // ‘Cause after I’m finished wrecking this shit // I’ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian // |
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