Lyrics Grab the Mic and Boo You - Ras Kass, Canibus

Grab the Mic and Boo You

Now since the Wake-Up Show, I’ve been handin rappers they ass on a silver
platter
Its empty ill & gray matter
I do a selectively crew
The type of brother that will go to ya album release party, grab the mic and
BOO you
Like how’s how, F' how’s how
I make a fool’s do-rag do not want to
Nephew just a Brontosaurus with a sixth sense
Walking around not even knowing that he don’t exist
The cardio by linguistics this shit be the hardest act to follow
I don’t even spit I unswallow
I got so-called Hip-Hop purests that’s hip-hop tourists
Tryna mandate that I replicate 1988
Fool its 2000 so get a life do u know what these
Rugged ghetto streets look like
Now to my b-boys & b’iches
Black be the best brutalized beats like Beebe Briches
I got Tourrettes and when I finish snappin the black community gonna hate you
for real
Like you got on BET and screamed F' Lauren Hill
Like that, Canibus
Yeah, yeah pestilence!
Pestilence!
Yeah, war the hardcore raw metaphor
Bout to blackout one time for y’all
I’m as dangerous as they come, dangerous with or without a gun
I’ve been dangerous from day one
Rhyme flows explode like pyro’s
Stick to your ribs like chicken and thick gravy from Roscoe’s
You get your head flown if you dumb in the dome
Or struck with some stone till you feel numb in the bones
You better keep your big mouth closed
'Fore I stick a muzzle of the chrome in that hole under your nose
Send a signal to my index and tell it to fold
In the direction of my wrist bones to release your soul
I told you to freeze, if I was you I wouldn’t have froze
But you chose that other route and got blown full of holes
A pistol to ya mug cripple ya tongue, rip through ya lungs
Then write your name on your tombstone, scribbled in blood
C’mon give me a little love — is there anybody out there
That never felt one rhyme that Canibus bust?
You a liar liar ya pants on fire, watch the G.O.A.T
But the ghostwriter get slaughtered by a tiger
I saw him in the Pun video holdin' up his lighter
I smeared his career like doo-doo inside a diaper
My style is sicker than infected women and men
I’m so raw I could catch AIDS without stickin' it in
Flip and dip like scrimps and scampi
Switch my language up like a black kid raised by a Spanish nanny
You think you got big cahunas well I got bad news
After tonight you’ll have a testicular tumor
Dirty Manhattan alley to Atlanta where niggas drive caddies
To Trick Daddy and Trina down in Miami
To Louisiana with Cash Money and Manny
To the Sky Bar at the Mondrian out in Cali
With a raspberry daiquiri, I’ll assault and batter you badly
Words fire rapidly like heavily armed Apaches
Piloted by a trigger-happy Iraqi with extremely bad acne
I cause catastrophe to any nigga trying to battle me
Word yeah 2000 B. C