Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lord Cyborg, artist - Canibus.
Date of issue: 03.02.2022
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Lord Cyborg |
Good morning, top of the day |
I oxygenate with coffee and omelette steak |
Then I decarboxylate |
Pull a stocking down over my face |
Tuck that thing in the waist |
Meet you downstairs at the gate |
They say the brown-tailed squirrel |
Is entitled to lessen this world |
I find it hard to respect those words |
Tonic subdominant dominant |
Influence beta vocal and beat moderate |
While still placing my voice on top of it |
(Are you a philosopher?) |
Yes, I think very deeply |
In fact, alkaline hydrolysis exists |
When you come to terms with that |
Your blood will be tapped |
From biosludge in a vat |
And your world will collapse |
V&ires want blood |
And pseudo-scientists want biosludge |
Basic Instructions Before B.I.B.L.E. |
Club |
The pillars of justice |
Crushed to dust by a nigga with musket |
They handcuffed him 'cause he spit with substance |
Ask around, he ain’t nothin' to fuck with |
Or be in love with |
Them handcuffs is like titanium cufflings |
Verily, verily I say unto you |
Microphone check 1, 2, 1, 2 |
Go 'head, claim that baggage |
Delta Strike Force package |
My drones over traffic cause accidents to happen |
You must be reading my mind |
He a one man machine that rhyme |
A baby doberman eating at your spine |
Beginning to feed off your insides |
If I was you I wouldn’t think twice |
The main concern is to preserve life |
If I was you? |
Play nice, bruh, don’t be mean |
I cried watching what happened to behind the scenes? |
gene? |
299 days later I walked in the bodega |
Wearing gold plated Ray-Ban Aviators |
Rap don’t prove you great |
I show you how catastrophe taste |
Throw battery acid in your face |
The Lawnmower Man with motorized hands |
My hydraulics crush hydrogen tanks and make a thug dance |
No cap, I called Lord Cyborg on the map |
He ain’t no hip hop cop, he got a badge for rap |
308 unique angle of attack |
That yellow-bellied rat just shot him in the back |
Now you got a malfunctioning backpack |
In zero gravity, how the fuck you gon' get back |
Yo to go collect all his plaques |
I never thought of that |
But I’ma have to go with «no, thanks» |
I got a certified postage letter |
From the globalists on my dresser |
And I ain’t gon' never open it |
They want my Infinity check |
I signed an NDA with the Senator |
14 years later we see the release |
Of something suspiciously similar |
They stole my shit |
Look at all them flows I spit |
I’m multidisciplinary, yet nothing could’a prepared me |
For what I experienced in the rap game summarily |
Verily, verily I say unto you |
Microphone check 1, 2, 1, 2 |
Verily, verily I say unto you |
I watched it all happen from the telecom room |
In plain view I saw Metatron under a full moon |
With the Sephiroth in his crew eating energon cubes |
The Lord Cyborg’s blackball is atrocious |
The interview with Joe Rogan got zero promotion |
Dr. Malone had him open |
I was in the background coachin' him |
Dewey Cooper the Black Kobra and TJ was chokin' him |
Had him tappin' out all over the linoleum |
Then Don Corleone got Covid again |
Every day occurrences like this |
Are circumstantial adverses |
That get perverted into a burden |
Holographic indigenous camouflage projection |
A weapon system we generally use for our protection |
Poetry marginal margin, now that’s what I’m talkin' |
If I’m flyin' in a Black Hawk, that’s what I’m squawkin' |
100,000 bars and runnin', keep marchin' |
I don’t answer the phone, I don’t care who callin' |
The bad boy a good talk |
Kamayamaya him a boss |
That’s him layin' in the Himalayan salt |
Blessed the man with heart |
Where beautiful things are |
Barefoot before God prayin' in the park |
Lamb shish kebab, wolf gang, murder mouth in a synagogue |
50 bars, Cappadonna — Winter Warz |
Master Builder Bus, the group I’m a member of |
We came to free the hip hop prisoners |
And lift your spirit up |
3rd eye live it up |
The microphone is a good listener |
Verily, verily I say unto you |
Microphone check 1, 2, 1, 2 |
I massage my mustache with Lemon &Bergamot from a glass |
A thick fog develops from hot gas |
My Jamaican grandma gon' whoop your ass |
'Cause you ate the last dumpling out the pot, dumbass |
Verily, verily I say unto you |
Microphone check 2, 0, 2, 2 |