Canibus - CKUT Canada lyrics

I spit so ferocious I can't stay focused
Watch the ambience of the tone switch
When I'm in mic mode, E.L.F. overload
The proverbial verbal toe to toe, foot to your throat
Ding-ding, get in the ring nigga, answer your phone
Rap so sick the friction will leave your lips swole
Sipping on sour cold sauce syrup slow
Ripping the flow ‘til your face looks like strawberry pulp
Scan your whole area code, call the crib like, ‘Is he home?
Tell him to come alone' and click phone
Spit rhymes and split skulls
Miserable pit bulls leave you with tourniquet wrapped wrist bones
From Fort Hood to Fort Green
My metaphors bling, Lord of the Rings, I'm the Thorazine king
Hold that, hold this, put the mic down before you catch thumbrosis
You holding a Cris? I'm in your house feeding your fish in your robe and slips
Holding your old ladies tit, frequent visitors, stick a dick in her
Supreme lyricist with built-in T-twenty fusion inhibitors
Citizens scared of the minimum lyrical derivative forty-four curriculum
Syllables caliber killing them
Damn nigga, what you think of him? Feeling that nigga, dun
For real, ‘cause that nigga been spitting for a minute, son
They want to get rid of him, that's why they belittle him on the mic
He ain't human, that's what I keep telling them
If they don't want to play him on FM, then F-them
He don't care about them, the mic is his best friend
Throw a beat on and bless them
Battle? Bring your best men, double X L, X-Men
My rap cracks the thermostat; reset the temp at a hundred-eighty degrees
Please, it's no sweat; all I need to know is where and when
Talk to my agent and make sure the craft service is Jamaican
Record through thirty-two X lens, right brain connect with left hem
The REM is high-res, my surveillance disrespect FED's
Anti-social, dyslexic, doing C.A.T. Scans at the pet cem
The emcee mortuary endorser, mortifier turns the audience to dismembered corpses
Slap bootleggers with a novelty tax, enforced by the Rap Coalition Poverty Act
Black balled, but what's it feel like not to be black?
Universal got my stock, I want my property back
Spit hard and never got a dime
Spit the hottest rhymes, in modern times and still got ostracized
For the intelligent community that reads my lyrics
What I've writing deserves a legion of merit
This is the precarious position of a rap star dead serious
With hilariously bizarre, trade a verses with the Gods
R.A.W.W.A.R., flow for a hundred and eight bars, I took nothing and gave all
Look up in the sky
A burning star quasar when I rhyme
Artwork of an undetermined design
I still shine quotable of an uncorrodible kind
Lightning-bolt struck the pen and I wrote a few lines
MicClub: The Curriculum, December third, you'll get it in due time //