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lirik lagu canibus - tim westwood freestyle

[intro: wyclef jean]

[verse 1: canibus]
yo, yo, yo
i look directly into human eyes to see if you pussy
and completely ruin your ability to lie to me
now you can stand in front of me lookin’ real silly
or prepare to go to battle, and kick a rhyme to me
i pull a nine on a bully, c-ck back the cannon
god d-mn it, i don’t think you fully understand it
ask nine out of ten people on the planet
who the best is, the question will go unanswered
’till i step up, to the front line with rhymes
revin’ my engines like they was powered by le mans
murderin’ n-gg-s with lyrics manufactured within my dna’s
double-helix, i’ll leave you in troubled spirits
i’m absolutely the purest, from the usa
to europe, because i deserve it
let me p-ss it to my man wyclef
w-y-c-l-e-f, yo, there’s no contest

[verse 2: wyclef jean]
yo, the w-y-c-l-e-f, wyclef
there’s no contest, about to put ’em to rest
the primary purpose to this text is to present
techniques, and guided ‘um a practice
to cause boxers to um, forfeit
mc’s who’s focused, wyclef too accomplished
aah, i’m throwin’ clones in the h-ll pit
vocabulary comprehension study
readin’ in critical -n-lyzin’
techniques to enable djs
to interact with my material
westwood, play it on your turntable
scratch it if your able
characteristics, circ-mstances
will determine how long you live
mr. [?] actress
i aqua-snatch gats from kids with pack back
who lack raps, and rap to get quick dap

[verse 3: canibus]
yo, yo, yo
my lyrical inertia rips holes through the fabric of universes
with rhymes three times the density of what the earth is
i carry lyrics for n-gg-s who carry burners
you against me is like a lighter against a furnace
knockin’ n-gg-s out, and knockin’ n-gg-s off
for comin’ around the way with them lugs that look like clocks
check the astrophysics of these lyrical lyrics
comin’ to digits too big for n-gg-s to count on they fingers
check the hype shit, blow up a mic shit, you might get
beat the f-ck up in broad daylight with a nightstick
mentally advanced, ever since the brain transplant
canibus recieved the fugee’s jacket from [?]

[verse 4: wyclef jean]
yo, yo, now check it out
1, 2 for your brain, here we go, yo, yo
one take, i make the earth quake
let the hater’s debate, i walk away with the sweepstake
i won the lotto, check out the lingo
me, and my micro, more chips then bingo
you still s-o-s-o, your crew got no ammo
i’m not a communist, but i get guns from castro
whether in trio, a rockin’ solo
give up my chain ’cause you thought i was dolo
uh oh, uh oh, yo he about to be zero
send him back to real underground like [?]
play that kid out like michael’s brother tito
then lay low, in london with the ladies speakin’ ‘spanol
so [?] banner who [?] on my scanner
my grammar slammer any crew who choose to do

[verse 5: canibus]
see, physically
i move at a velocity, that’ll break your stopwatch if your clockin’ me
my concrete jungle is like jumanji
but iller than what you seen in the cinema
a five-foot-eight n-gg- with more horsepower than twelve cylinders
my brain consists of twin pentium chips
that’s double the [?] of a five-eighty-six
nothin’ about my physical matrix is basic
i kick flavor beyond what your tongue is capable of tasting
you’ll be so surprised, you won’t believe your own eyes
it’s like a jamaican seeing the snow for the first time
rhymes of a sort to distort space, and time
it’s like, explaining color to a man who was born blind
one of a kind, i got divine chromosomes in me
my sperm will scramble the eggs in a woman’s ovaries
’cause i’m as original as it gets
and i can’t respect cats that copy like double-dex
i get vexed when crab n-gg-s bite my style
’cause i’m sellin’ a thousand records per day, per square mile
breakin’ the laws of physics with metaphors, and lyrics
speaking to dead poets by conjuring up they spirits
from shakespear to edgar allen
yo, the whole dead poet society couldn’t mess around with the talent
much less understand it, i make tightrope walkers at the circus lose they balance when i kick the planet

[verse 6: wyclef jean]
yo, yo, yo
pick up the pencil, raps must be crucial
thoughts go blank, yo, ’cause you couldn’t bank
the eight-ball back to the corner, back to the corner
pocket, mock it, jock it, but like jimi hendrix you couldn’t hear it
no hard feelin’, villain, this ain’t your everyday rapper
the name wyclef, i’m about to get dapper
when i whistle, uh, two dogs by my side
plus a black pistol, uh, loud mc’s sh!
feel the silence, so you still talkin’, you cuckoo
i send psycho’s to [?] you, aaaah!
i’ll have you scream too
real live cinema, the streets produce the junkies
pull back on your shirt, you’re lookin’ like e.t
you’re cracked out, fo’ do’, some blow on saxophone
we rhymin’ off-beat, even with help from your metronome
you not an mc, see you a cm
common motherf-cka rhymin’ ’bout lexuses, and benz
same benz you got jacked in (yo, change the beat n-gg-!)
change the beat, change the beat, change the track
(yeah, change it to, “we no soldiers, we don’t die, there’s no lie in the na-na-na!)

[beat change]

[verse 7: canibus]
the secret of the ages, i illuminate with logic
what i speak, it’s more than just deep, it’s bottomless
with common sense, i’m organized like crimes in mafias
plus the way i rhyme is prime like optimus
a rapologist, you could sit, and do the knowledge with
geds to degrees from ivy league colleges
i politic with any magazine colonist
about topics other mcs won’t even bother with
rock solid shit like stones, and monuments
it’s obvious the third eye, and the obelisk is watchin’ us
closely, through a microscope, and a pair of binoculars
ghetto scholars like me who study street calculus
i utilize every letter of the arabic alphabet
to touch a part of your body, then let you feel [?]

[verse 8: wyclef jean]
yo, you wanna battle wyclef, here’s the dream
hold my hands, and pray, at the [?]
you don’t got knowledge yourself, so you don’t know what that means
keep your lights, keep your [?] westwood, give me the action
the battlezone, where i roam in composition
hardcore in london, with [?] if i break like
your first time in jail where you got f-cked by an inmate
it’ll never happen, i’m more balanced like a libra
and if i get murdered, don’t cry for me, argentina
pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father
three days i rise like christ, and still sober
now my eyes open, in my hands i got the gatling
i’m looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to satan
fists of fury, you wouldn’t like me when i’m angry
i turn mr. roger’s neighborhood topsy-turvy
frozen enemies [?] in the dictionary
this ain’t pictionary, all you see is the cemetary
bodies from wwi, and ii was there
you don’t want a third war, there’s nuclear warfare
canibus count the stash, making fast, illegal money
turns legal, you’re running a laundry-mat
you’re hunchbacked, and wack raps you pack in your backpack
you’re better off in dc with the mayor smoking crack
this ain’t a diss, ha, wyclef bomb threat
run out of the building or get blast in your [?]
tec for tec, or we can go text for texture
oh, i forgot, you don’t read, blaow, take this hole in your chest
hide the gun yo, it’s a homicide
when the dt shows up, they thought it was a suicide
suicide, it’s a suicide
canibus grab the mic, and represent with your third eye

[verse 9: canibus]
i drink a gallon of the ginseng extract
harness all my lyrical power to rip tracks
i shed light upon pitch black, so at times
even your third eye finds my rhymes too bright to glimpse at
i think back to before i was born
when suckas wasn’t even involved in this art form
now they write rhymes to reflect nothing but hard times
while i be on america online
electronically mailing my thoughts across the information highway
trying to communicate wit’ y’all way
discovering shit, to make a n-gg- bug
i speak a language that don’t even require the tongue
raps carry the impact, of a sawed-off
get in my face, and your liable to get yours blown off
i’ma show off, everyone up north knows i’m the best
ll couldn’t bring it to me if he had my home address
much less defeat me, you must be taking steroids
and not eating your wheaties, and smoking crack instead of beadies
step into the ring, i put you through pain you’ve never been through
torture will force you to tap out so i don’t have to pin you
you see my style will get in you like an injection
lyrical ooze causin’ rap crews to become x-men
infecting mcs with a disease there’s no cure for
no man can withstand a canibus metaphor
i freak a rhyme ’til your sampler stops counting bars
and delegate laws as if i’m god
so call me arrogant if you want to
but the canibus creates cyphers n-gg-s can bring a lighter, and a blunt to
uncle sam wants you, but he don’t want me
because lyrically i’m too advanced for you average mcs
my field of forces, bigger than twenty golf courses
eerie like government theories behind flying saucers
i go on, and on, and on for hours until batteries die
then i switch to auxiliary power
it’s no soldiers, there’s no lie
we don’t die in the na-na-na

[outro: wyclef jean & canibus]

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