| Yeah! |
| That’s the beat right there
|
| I’m about to black out
|
| With a hundred bars on some professional shit
|
| So don’t try this at home, yo
|
| Yo, yo, yo
|
| My style of rhymin' is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans
|
| Because I recognize it’s all about timin'
|
| Me and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science
|
| In front of twenty-foot bonfires
|
| Lookin' skyward, calculatin' May 5, 2000
|
| The nine planets’ll be in alignment
|
| The arrival of the prophet in the cockpit
|
| Of a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet
|
| With mercury ion rockets
|
| And a big-ass «Canibus Comin' Soon» poster on the side of it
|
| I’m known geographically and intergalactically
|
| That’s why I got extraterrestrials that wanna battle me
|
| They even tried kidnappin' 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 workin' for COM 12
|
| 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
|
| Bruisin' niggas, confusin' 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 actin' tough and 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 ravin' 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 flyin' glass
|
| Trained to blow up commercial aircraft
|
| 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 solderin' 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 dimes
|
| Dividin' myself into hundred ten times
|
| You can’t deny the offerings I offer
|
| Flows that glow with auroras that sparkle like water
|
| Fly like a saucer
|
| with the torque of a Porsche
|
| Murder a million MC’s, then autograph all of their coffins
|
| Been gettin' it on since I been born and I’mma live long
|
| And I’mma be gettin' it on 'til I’m gone
|
| Look at all the stages I been on, all the songs that I 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 grippin' 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
|
| shittin' on niggas
|
| Drawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on
|
| Duckin' down low like we in 'Nam fightin' the Viet Cong
|
| Screamin' «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 800,000 to even consider a war
|
| And 200,000 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 motherfuckin' asphalt
|
| Nine out of ten niggas is frauds
|
| You know who you are
|
| Always talkin' about your bitches and your cars |
| Your jewelry and your girls, it’s like we from two different worlds
|
| You motherfuckers really get on my nerves
|
| 'Cause I’m beyond 'em, 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 then 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 motherfucker to cross it
|
| I’ll even call my man Black Rob at two in the mornin'
|
| Tell him it’s important
|
| Tell him to call Sting three-way and sing a chorus
|
| Break your camcorders, so you motherfuckers 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 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 stink
|
| Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints
|
| Battlin' me, you never win
|
| You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?
|
| Nigga, guess again
|
| 'Cause after I’m finished wreckin' this shit
|
| I’mma drink a whole bottle of Henny and go fuck a lesbian |