Testi musica canzoni

[Verse 1]Yo, yo, yoNow when you see that big ass 'C', you know I'm comin throughAnd when you know I'm comin through, you know what I'ma doI never said that battlin me, would be impossibleI just think it's highly motherfuckin improbableYou talkin to a nigga that can split moleculesto subatomic particles, strong enough to stop a bullBody-slam two oxes and drop a muleUrinatin rocket fuel, freestylin over gospel tunesRhymes by the thousands, rhymes for hoursI could kick a rhyme longer than your whole albumThe kickboxer, beatin the shit out niggaz properI beat 'em till they holla, beat 'em til the cops comeBeatin niggaz til they have seizures, beat 'em til they start screaminlike fax machines when they start receivinBeat 'em til my own hands start bleedinBeat 'em til they lungs stop breathin and they heart stop beatinFrom 12 A.M. to 12 P.M. in the eveninWith three 15 minute breaks in between 'emGood Jesus, that's a real West Indian beatinThat's what you get for fuckin with this lyrical demonMy bloodstream's been, contaminated for eonsI got cast out of heaven for treasonGot cast out of the Garden of Eden for lettin the reptilian beast inGot locked up for a DUI and speedinA whole legion of half-decent emcees'll get released whenthey spit a hundred bars for they freedomSee I'm much too nice to compete witToo nice to flow over beats wit, too nice to hold a M-I-C witOff some diesel Hercules shit, I cold flipand start to punch trees til they leaflessInhale with two real deep breaths, hold my breathtil the whole planet suffocates and then release it (RELEASE IT)Chorus: CanibusYo, you ain't as cold as us, or as bold as usWhen you get thrown to the wolves, you get thrown to usCuz we rollin rough, when the soldiers rushEither you roll wit us, or get blown to dust Yo, you ain't as cold as us, or as bold as usWhen we in the war-zone, we got the chrome with usCuz we rollin rough, when the soldiers rushEither you roll wit us, or get blown to dust(Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust!)[Verse 2]Yo, yoNow for the last couple of months, things been real quietcause I ain't heard shit worth buyinI'm bout to show you niggaz how I'm drivenThe drive comes from my lyrics and my lyrics come from my inner spiritVibratin and spinnin, faster than 12-cylinder engines with nitrogen in 'em, faster than F-1 McLaren pistonsFast enough to give your brain an aneurysmcause you niggaz is slower than fat bitches metabolismThe way I rip apart the competition when I be spittinThe name Canibus might as well be CannibalismShow me a man that can't feel himI'll show you a man that'll grab him by the neckand put his head to the fan on the ceilinSuffer real "Banned From Television" shitDrop him off the roof of a buildin and let the news film himI hop in front of the cameras and tell 'em how I'm feelinI tell 'em how I feel that hip-hop, should deal wit itTell 'em how I'm tired of the state rappers inNinety percent of the shit that rappers kick is subject matter-lessNot original, but blasphemous, just a bunch of the same charactersshootin the same videos, it's embarassinUsin the same formulas to have a hitUsin the same actors and actresses, same shit different laxativeFace it nigga you wack as shit I'm snatchin your micI make you run for your life, chill durin the daylightthen track you at night, my global position is satelliteGot a infrared lens to test your body's fahrenheitWherever you go, I track you through hail, sleet, or snowI track you til you're seizure grows into a afrountil you plant 'em into cornrowsTrack you til your shoe soles develop holesand you get, corns on your toestil your teeth develop halitosisbut you been goin so long without deodorantyou don't even notice -- motherfucker!Chorus 2Xmore