| This is the C section
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| Rippin and wreckin the lyrical legends sendin y’all to mic club heaven
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| This is the C section
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| A lyrical legend second to none in this profession
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| I spit it exquisite
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| And rip it minute by minute
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| I’m in it to win it You fuckin rhyme with bis you finished
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| Lyrical menace scrape enamel off your teeth like a dentist
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| With a senator minister from the executive senate
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| Pro-gression followed by metaphorical methods
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| Testing 1 2 3 4 testing testing
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| Supreme supremacist nemesis to competitors
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| Predators eat intestines of anything they entrusted in Slice you like lettuce and celery start seven
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| Then make a mc salad out of suckas and sell it For an expensive percentage
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| With nine tenths of the credit
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| Drink red bull beverage to increase lyrical leverage
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| I only give respect to mic club members and my own mentors
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| In the center of my circle where I dare you to enter
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| This is art imitating life imitating art
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| Imitating the brain simulating thoughts when I talk
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| Idealistically I spit for free
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| The cinography of the rhyme is what balances me Challenges me
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| E A six speed prowlers
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| Superior air power
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| Fly around us with propulsion that’s soundless
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| Spittin rhymes out by the thousands
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| Nitro-glycerin tablets under the tongue calm me down a bit
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| Attitude cynicism and lassitude
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| Battle you? |
| come on dude I should slap you fool
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| Spit what I’ll leave your lips numb the friction is so sick son
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| Your children disappear from a trition
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| Rhythmic high intensity conflict is a given it Especially if Canibus is doin the rippin
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| You snippin to clippin in the C-section incisions
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| With scissors with rubber ergonomic grip for the fingers
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| Liars for hire with a defense like Jeffery Fygar
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| And rock it like thugs who work for mic club
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| Hyped up and tear the mic up my man
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| Move forward as expeditiously as I can
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| Ain’t nobody in the world like Bis
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| The nitrous with radio telescopic devices
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| Same type shit
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| Facially hairless igogarious Jamaican-American
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| Lyricist turned microphone terrorist
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| Airlift me off the front line to my therapist
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| So I can sit in his chair and tell him how much I care for this
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| This is what they want this is what they love
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| To engage in the exchange of ideas and drugs
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| While I’m in the cut satellite trackin you rappers
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| With months of food rations beneath the catacombs of Paris
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| Theories of super-lattice and super-savage
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| Atomic attack tachometers flash when I punch the gas bitch
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| The farther I climb the harder I rhyme
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| You gotta face death and survive to feel more alive
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| The quality of life is an illusion of the mind
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| Super-imposed lines look two-dimensional from the side
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| According to the science of the C-section applied
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| If they say I’m the best after I die don’t be surprised
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| I C-section the sky let my energy rise
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| At the moment of truth I know it’s definitely my time
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| As my soul is eased through the sive I’ll be grateful because I lived
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| The only drawback is that I didn’t have kids
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| To C-section my beautiful whiz
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| And see the resemblance of my face in hers or his
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| Who knows what the future will bring
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| It stresses me to think
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| This mic meant everything now it doesn’t seem important
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| Now I gotta follow orders defend borders
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| From Maine to California Seattle to Florida
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| If I could talk to the Oracle I know what I’d ask her
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| I’d speak to her about my passions
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| As the hourglasses turn my life passes
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| I’ll just wait till I see the master and I’ll just ask him
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| Forget it that’s the future this is the present
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| A message to anybody listenin to the C section
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| — repeat 2X |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song "C" Section , by - Canibus. Song from the album Miclub - The Curriculum, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп