[Canibus]

You want a facelift? This what it take 'Bis

A beat that'll make a nigga think an earthquake hit

The blue collar rapper, enigmatic, democratic

Rap-saavy fanatic that can smash any matchup

High with a roach, bring wealth and goggles to my show

My flow glow brighter than any diamond that you know

I walk among you, draw energy from you

The art of Sun-Tzu, he used to bust too

I'm like a Shaolin monk on crunk

Holdin himself up with his thumb on the stump

Get a Hummer for the summer to stunt

And just sit in the front, while my lungs become one with the blunt

Futuristic old schooler, look like JFK Jr

When I shoot up, Jacob the jeweler with a new cut

Can-I-bus, I ain't got what I want yet

How would you expect one of the best, what

I can't get no, grab the mic, niggaz lets go

Tell me who got the best flow, end up with less dough

Open your vest, let your chest show

I'ma open your chest, let your breath go

With a thirty-eight special

Keep it on the low, don't let the press know

Behind the scenes, they put me on death row and won't let go

Brace yourself while I break the chains

My beats bang so hard, they erase the blame



[Chorus x4]

This is full battle rattle, attack you

Salute while I smash you, Can-I-bus bus to blast you 4X



[Canibus]

The hudred bar monster, spit without hawkin up

Smash your whole roster, fuck what it cost ya

Fuck what it cost me, join the army

Smoke Bob Marley, the sergent major honorably discharge me

From my sentimiliar and my hemping sence

Inspiration, why is it only worth ten percent

Another day in the life of Mr. Can-I-bus

MY life too rought for me not to recognize lust

The soldier's back to blow a fuckin hole through rap

I wish they'd let me out the cage and stop holding me back

You might say the only thing holdin me back is myself

It ain't hard to tell what's holdin me back is my cells

I don't make records for girls, I spit for the pearl

But i'm an artist in an ignimant world, world

World class athlete, trained to attack beats

Mixtape smash the streets, try to patch the leaks

Niggaz try to battle me but lose

They got limited views, I remember when I was primitive too

I'd sit and talk with the inqusitive youth

'Cause I be spittin the truth

sometimes I ask 'em, what you listenin to

Lyrical fitness is the proof, let me put you in the booth

Nottz'll play the beat loop

Let me see what you could do

The older advise the younger when they recognize the hunger

I do a couple raps with the mic to get pumped up

Monkey bar sit-ups, blood rush to my head

I write rhymes upside down with an astronaut pen

Spit a hot sixteen and my ten, take it up a notch, then

Lost everything when I'm locked in

You in the kill zone, boxed in

Tried to play jump-rope

With skeets on and got dropped when you hopped in

The last mohican, smoke you in the first season

You don't speak it but it's no secret

Peep it, you light weight like rice cakes

Anybody under twenty-one to touch the microphone is mic bait

Hungry niggaz start to get type faced, that's when the fight breaks

A sixty second rhyme is a nice pace

Work a nigga out 'til he spit out white paste

Tell him he could hide the proof on his face with night shades

You looking for a battle, you came to the right place

This is Mic Club and over here I'm the mic ace



[Chorus x4]