(feat. Kurupt)



[Canibus]

It's like this y'all, Canibus y'all

About to rip y'all with the raw shit y'all

With my hard core raw dog Kurupt

'Bout to blow this shit the fuck up

It's two-thousand B.C., 'bout to take it to

two-thousand A.D

Yea, my mother fucking man Ray on the track

Check it out



[Canibus]

Yo, yo

It's two-thousand A.D.: After Disaster

Fly's buzz around a million rappers cadavers

Never been the type to talk

My ice-grill's like, looking down the wide jaws of a white shark

'Bout to rip off your arms like perforated paper

A hundred times more sharper than stainless steal razors

Shock you with an electrically charged taser

'Till you turn blue in the face, and die from asphyxiation

The stench of a thousand ounces

Grab you by the throat and blow my second-hand weed smoke down it

Don't give a fuck what month you dropping in

I'll be in the Dungeon hollering, 'fuck you and your cult following'

You cum-swallowing transsexual fag

With crabs, and breasts that sag, dressed in drag

Running full-paged ads in the porno mags

With pictures of you with a dick in your mouth and a dick in your ass

Kurupt where you at?

Yea, the Dungeon style



Yea, the dungeon

Yo

Lyrically, I'm bananas

My tongue moves like Hindu belly-dancers performing tantra

I blur your vision like slow shuttled speeds on the camera

Get up in that ass like colon cancer

Brain cells handpicked

Organically enhanced with third millennium medical standards

My D.N.A. was tampered with

By genetic engineers with scholarship grants that stupid in Stanford

Canibus, too advanced for this shit

Turn spit to gas vapour, then back to spit

Your style is one-quarter bull, one-quarter horseshit

One-quarter garbage, and one-quarter nonsense

Make you nauseous 'till you vomit

Like the Backwards Pharcyde video going forwards

As I drink the blood of a thousand emcees

I can tell by the taste of the pulp if they was hand-squeezed

This is Transylvania, vampire mania

You should be afraid of my fangs in your neck draining you

I was made to bust, made to crush

Any mic me and Kurupt touch, turn to dusk

See? I'm as dangerous as they come

Dangerous with or without a gun, I've been dangerous since day one

Rhyme flows explode like pyros

Stick to your ribs like chicken and thick gravy from Roscoes

Get your head flown if you dumb in the dome

Or struck with some stones 'till you feel numb in the bones

You better keep your big mouth closed

'Fore I stick the 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 bone to release your soul

I told you to freeze, if I was you I would have froze

But you chose the other route and got blown full of holes

Pistol to your mug, cripple your tongue, rip through your lungs

Write your name on your tombstone scribbled in blood

Give me a little love

There anybody out there that never felt one rhyme that Can-I-Bus bust?

You a liar, liar, pants on fire

Watch the G.O.A.T. with the ghost-writer get slaughtered by a tiger

Seen him in the Pun video holding up his lighter

Smeared his career like doo-doo inside a diaper

My style is sicker than, infected women and men

I'm so raw, I can catch AIDS without sticking it in

Flip and dip like shrimps and scampi

Switch language like a black kid raised by a Spanish nanny

And we do it like that when we in the dungeon

Past the motherfucking mic to Kuruption