| You want a facelift? |
| This what it take 'Bis
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| A beat that’ll make a nigga think an earthquake hit
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| The blue collar rapper, enigmatic, democratic
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| Rap-saavy fanatic that can smash any matchup
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| High with a roach, bring wealth and goggles to my show
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| My flow glow brighter than any diamond that you know
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| I walk among you, draw energy from you
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| The art of Sun-Tzu, he used to bust too
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| I’m like a Shaolin monk on crunk
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| Holdin himself up with his thumb on the stump
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| Get a Hummer for the summer to stunt
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| And just sit in the front, while my lungs become one with the blunt
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| Futuristic old schooler, look like JFK Jr When I shoot up, Jacob the jeweler with a new cut
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| Can-I-bus, I ain’t got what I want yet
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| How would you expect one of the best, what
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| I can’t get no, grab the mic, niggaz lets go Tell me who got the best flow, end up with less dough
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| Open your vest, let your chest show
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| I’ma open your chest, let your breath go With a thirty-eight special
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| Keep it on the low, don’t let the press know
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| Behind the scenes, they put me on death row and won’t let go Brace yourself while I break the chains
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| My beats bang so hard, they erase the blame
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| This is full battle rattle, attack you
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| Salute while I smash you, Can-I-bus bus to blast you 4X
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| The hudred bar monster, spit without hawkin up Smash your whole roster, fuck what it cost ya Fuck what it cost me, join the army
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| Smoke Bob Marley, the sergent major honorably discharge me From my sentimiliar and my hemping sence
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| Inspiration, why is it only worth ten percent
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| Another day in the life of Mr. Can-I-bus
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| MY life too rought for me not to recognize lust
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| The soldier’s back to blow a fuckin hole through rap
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| I wish they’d let me out the cage and stop holding me back
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| You might say the only thing holdin me back is myself
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| It ain’t hard to tell what’s holdin me back is my cells
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| I don’t make records for girls, I spit for the pearl
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| But i’m an artist in an ignimant world, world
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| World class athlete, trained to attack beats
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| Mixtape smash the streets, try to patch the leaks
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| Niggaz try to battle me but lose
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| They got limited views, I remember when I was primitive too
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| I’d sit and talk with the inqusitive youth
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| 'Cause I be spittin the truth
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| sometimes I ask 'em, what you listenin to Lyrical fitness is the proof, let me put you in the booth
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| Nottz’ll play the beat loop
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| Let me see what you could do The older advise the younger when they recognize the hunger
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| I do a couple raps with the mic to get pumped up Monkey bar sit-ups, blood rush to my head
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| I write rhymes upside down with an astronaut pen
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| Spit a hot sixteen and my ten, take it up a notch, then
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| Lost everything when I’m locked in You in the kill zone, boxed in Tried to play jump-rope
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| With skeets on and got dropped when you hopped in The last mohican, smoke you in the first season
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| You don’t speak it but it’s no secret
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| Peep it, you light weight like rice cakes
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| Anybody under twenty-one to touch the microphone is mic bait
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| Hungry niggaz start to get type faced, that’s when the fight breaks
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| A sixty second rhyme is a nice pace
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| Work a nigga out 'til he spit out white paste
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| Tell him he could hide the proof on his face with night shades
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| You looking for a battle, you came to the right place
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| This is Mic Club and over here I’m the mic ace |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Da' Facelift , by - Canibus. Song from the album Hip-hop For $ale, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп