| Yo, sittin on chrome, sittin on low pro 20 inch firestones
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| Grippin the road with the wickedest flow, 'Bis is a pro
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| I zigzag throughout sly loam
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| Accelerate and decelerate in and out the cones
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| Poisonous poems travel through walkman headphones
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| Into your dome Osteoperosis your bones,
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| Who’s the nicest nigga you know in the year two triple-oh
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| Spit turn to icicles in the mid air and slit your throat
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| Drain your carcass dry rip out your heart bitch
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| I write rhymes using your blood for my ink cartridges
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| Paleoanthropologists, polish the bones
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| of rapper artist after I dip in my hydrochloric waters
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| Canibus, with the seams burstin, perfect
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| Everyday the earth spins I write verses
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| My soul purpose as a verbalist, is to make my words twist
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| and connect like letters when they’re in cursive
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| Chorus: repeat 4X
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| I’ll pray on them, spray on them
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| First nigga to violate I’ll regulate without warning
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| Yo, Yo, I’m faster than leopards running across the vast desert
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| In twenty-two yards per second to catch me to daily delicatessen |
| With thirty minutes to eat’em, forty minutes to digest 'em
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| And fifty minutes for it to pass through my intestines
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| So ask yourself a question — can the Canibus rhyme?
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| Is a fuckin porcupine half swine?
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| No time to make up your mind, you wanna run or die?
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| Clip you while you’re running by, trip you up from behind
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| My rhymes, confuse niggas like somebody try to gang-bang
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| wearin a blue shirt and red pants,
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| throwin up signs with their left hand
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| Standin out on the corner of wetlands
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| with a confederate flag for a headband
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| God dam eggplants, niggas gettin me vexed man
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| Cause I’m surrounded by garbage like Fred Sav
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| and I can’t seem to get away from it I dreamed that I stabbed Leviathan through the stomach, and ate from it In my past life I slayed hundreds, and in the life before that
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| I played trumpets, to warn you that I was comin
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| There’s one billion ways to die, and I already tried
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| nine-hundred million nine hundred and ninety nine
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| When I aim and fire my rhymes, like a hundred cannon balls flying
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| Striking you one at a time, in a parallel line |
| Why the art of emceein is steady dyin
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| That nigga Canibus is still in his prime, bust a rhyme
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| Chorus: repeat 4X
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| I’ll pray on them, spray on them
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| First nigga to violate I’ll regulate without warning
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| Club Dodge, I wrecked that
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| Limelight, cursed that
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| Envy, I murdered that
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| Club SoHo, never heard of that
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| Wetlands, dried it up Cheaters, decided to club, fired up looking for a chicken to tie up Club New York, I heard it’s hot there
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| beats be rocking there
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| Too many niggaz be getting stabbed and shot there
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| Speed, I slowed it down
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| The Tunnel, they hold it down
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| Home of the underground, why they always close it down
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| Century club, the hot shit
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| House of Blues, I rocked it One twelve ATL, that’s the Dirty South bomb shit
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| Synagogue, yeah I be there
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| Caribbean City, roll deep there
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| Lyricist Lounge, they be some real emcees there
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| there there |