Canibus - Deal Real Records Show (feat. Mystro & Pugilist) lyrics

Aiyyo I stand outside the gates of Buckingham Palace selling reefer,
Puffin the chalice with the Beefeaters
Gettin so high that whenever I drop shit
it'll land on the window of your airplane cockpit
Canibus with the hot shit, "Crazy I. Click"
Niggaz is bloody idiots thinkin that they can stop this
I'll increase my strength, to a super human extent
Nigga your rhyme ain't worth sixpence
And if you can hear, smell, see, touch, and taste
then you don't need six senses to feel me punch you in the face
From Brixton, to Clapham Common, my lyrics invade Europe
like Joseph Stalin, and murder niggaz for rhymin
Spittin fire, with gasoline for saliva
As drunk as Lady Diana's driver wit reporters behind her
Alcohol in the hands of a minor
I got you panickin like bombs, with 30 second timers
Clear the buildin, evacuate women and children
Fuck what you feelin nigga, I came here to kill em
Straight shittin, from New York to Great Britain
And when we do shows we make the Queen pay admission, what!

Chorus: Canibus (and crowd)

When I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"
Can-I (BUS!) Can-I (BUS!)
Yo, when I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"
Can-I (BUS!) Can-I (BUS!)

Yo.. yo..
Yo prepare for the worst This next verse is the face of death
Me without lyrics is like a porn flick without sex
Illmatic, my lyrical skills are Jurassic
With more flavor then Skittles when I'm digitally mastered
I go off like a cannon and blow up the planet
with "No Fear", like them clothes white boys be wearin
I'm tougher than denim, lethal like venomous snake bites
The marijuana makes my eyes bright red like brake lights
There ain't a party I couldn't rock, believe that
There ain't a microphone brave enough to give me feedback
I'm strong, my word is Bond like James
Niggaz be tryin to test, but they 'week' like seven days
MC's run away when I kick it; they act so chicken
they should come with a large drink and a biscuit
My style's radioactive, massive atomic
I plan to push the Earth in front of Halley's Comet
Breakin the "Facts of Life" down like Tudy, I'm raw like sushi
with more "Vocab", than three fuckin Fugees
So recognize or be hospitalized
cause lyrically on a scale of one to ten I'm twenty-five


Yo, yo, a little bit of weed and some Henessey
got me ready to set it with kinetic energy
See I need much more energy then my enemies
If I wanna make more Bill's then Bellamy
So I could be on MTV with women constantly
tellin me I resemble Billy Dee
I make fly rhymes to get my name on the scene
Then when I'm on the scene I do shows to get the green
Then I take the green, buy a automobile machine
for that thing on page 43 in Jet Magazine
Canibus is the ultimate executioner's dream
Swingin the guillotine,
cause whenever the head is severed from the human body with a sharp enough weapon
the brain remains conscious for ten seconds
Long enough for me to give you one last message
And when you get to Hell you can tell Lucifer I said it
Don't ever get it confused, fuckin with Canibus
the human Rubik's Cube like you got somethin to prove
Yo, whoever grabs the mic after me'll get booed
Get everything in the club thrown at you and your crew
From Moet bottles to bar stools, fruits and foods
You got a album out, you get hit with your CD too
Runnin outside, cryin, lyin, denyin
that you ain't The Gay Rapper, but you got fucked by him
What's the difference? Y'all niggaz still ain't in lyrical fitness
Too busy mixin your bid'ness with your bitches
While I be in the lab composin forbidden scriptures
So wicked I got, Satan ejaculatin on his fingers
Like Dirk Diggler, in the middle of "Boogie Nights"
Sniffin white, livin the hype, he ruined his life
But I'm a MC of a different type, yeah that's right
Make sure your shit is tight, or I'ma snatch yo' mic, nigga!

Yo, yo, yo
My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's
Because I recognize it's all about timing
Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science
In front of twenty foot bonfires
Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand
The nine planets'll be in alignment
The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit
Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet
With mercury ion rockets
And a big ass, ‘Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it
I'm known geographically, and intergalactically
That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me
They even tried kidnapping me
And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity
Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field
And that's really what caused Roswell
Undercover operatives working for COM twelve
Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal
Lyrically, I'm off-scale
So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel
Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens
Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles
Hear the wild wolf growl
Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds
Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed
Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth
With the Southpaw Southern fist
I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp
For acting tough as shit, what a wimp
You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling
I'm an experiment gone bad
My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad
Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast
When I throw the Florence flask in my hand
Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass
Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts
Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last
I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass
With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag
Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh
‘You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask
Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last
Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass
You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye
Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives
A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die
A nigga with a divine mind
I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames
Dividing myself into a hundred ten times
You can't deny the offering's an offer
Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light
Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche
Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins
Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long
And I'ma be getting it on ‘til I'm gone
Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on
I took an oath to rip everything I get on
A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome
In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long
I'm just a small fish in a big pond
That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on
Nigga try to flip and get flipped on
My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on
Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits
And night vision goggles
A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form
With horns, and a mink on
Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong
Screaming, ‘incoming' when I see a bomb
Speak to your leader, surrender your arms
You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds
Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war
And two hundred thousand more to even look hard
You better drop your flag and withdraw
My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors
And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse
And drag y'all across the motha fucking asphalt
Nine out of ten niggas is frauds
You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars
Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds
You mother fuckers really get on my nerves
‘Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit
I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them
Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience
To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven
I flame broil suckers
And hit ‘em with some more shit, the raw shit
Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen
Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit
I dare a mother fucker to cross it
I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning
Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus
Break your camcorders so you motha fuckers can't record it
Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers
Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think
My album's gold, ‘cause my album was the bomb, shit
Y'all niggas got your ass beat ‘cause you asked for it
Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid
‘Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys
You fuck ‘em in the ass, then you give ‘em cash for it
That's some sick shit homeboy
A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud
You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is
With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton
You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?
You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship
You need to shut the fuck up ‘cause your breath stinks
Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints
Battling me, you'll never win
You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again
‘Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit
I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian

Now on some battling shit, my verbal lateral grip
Keeps my tongue glued to the A D.A.T. when I'm tracking my shit
Let my spit lubricate the chap on my lips
And make you rappers have fits, ‘cause I'm back in the mix
Fuck a pad and a pen, write rhymes on the I.B.M.
Ebonics is dead, the binary language is in
Canibus practices in a room with a thousand candles lit
Meditating on this rap shit
Because my freestyle reign sovereign
With a deeper conscious, than the Prophet Muhammad was born with
My brain cavity's enormous
My left-hemisphere alone harnesses all of the seven Chakras
While the right one harnesses darkness
The type of dark that makes a house haunted
The type of dark that niggas get lost in
The type of dark you feel when you dead in the coffin
I hear you talking, but I ignore it
‘Cause it's garbage and your rhyme's boring
So keep standing on the corner, the trash-man will collect you in the morning
Thug cats fronting
Wacker than Blinky-Blink on the back of the rap-tour wagon, babbling about nothing
Fuck that, real rough rats can get it on black
Meet me in the tunnel where pussy niggas get mugged at
So dark, you'll never see the blood splat
And you can't even react, ‘cause the trunk is where you keep your guns at
Now you're on speed, ‘cause you're too scared to comeback
You can't even breathe, the weed suffocates your lung-sacks
Fake emcees haul ass like they running track
Wherever Canibus and Rakim is at

I'm the illest nigga alive, watch me prove it
I snatch your crown witcha head still attatched to it
Canibus is the type who'll fight for mics
Beatin niggaz to death and beatin dead niggaz to life
When you look at me long enough, I start to read your thoughts
if the signal was strong enough, and then I'll call your bluff
like, "Yo, how many rhymes you got?" I think I'll go on
for more Milleniums than Mazda's got on the car lot
And there's nowhere to run ta, when I confront ya
Nigga, I call your bluff like you had a phone number
Who wanna see Canibus get wild, who wanna act fly and
get shot down with a surface-to-air missile
I take em on in all shapes sizes and forms and spit on
anybody who ain't close enough to shit on
Zero to sixty? I'm already doin a hundred
when I'm blunted and I give it to any nigga that want it

My offense is a mixture of Mike and Mohammed
Knock a nigga unconscious, and talk shit
In bare-knuckle boxing, speed is the object
Weaving and dodging, with defensive blocking
So in the ring, you cannot win
The top ten become nine dead, if I ever decide to hop in
With the one-two, one-two, shot to the chin
Knock you out like ten shots of Vodka and Gin
The beautiful blend, the power of strength
From the top of my head, down to where my toe cuticles end
I'll verbally burn a nigga, lyrically hurt a nigga
Put a voodoo verse on a nigga, Kennedy curse a nigga
Who can spit them words quicker than the average man?
Who can embarrass a man? Bites you with fangs, and mangle your hands
On candid cam, the Canibus can
The Canibus can, with the stamina to damage a man

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
I told y'all, I roast y'all
So come on, hold on

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
I told y'all, I roast y'all
So come on, hold on

I spit for it, lie for it, live for it, die for it
Back out the nine, commit a homicide for it
If I'm handcuffed with the right to remain silent for it
I'ma blow trial and do the Federal time for it
You mad at the last album? I apologize for it
Yo, I can't call it, motha fucking Wyclef spoiled it
But this time, for ninety-nine, I got five on it
You should double up and put a dime on it
Matter fact, triple your nickel and put fourteen ninety-nine on it
I'ma shine on it, watch Flex drop the bomb on it
About ten times on it
While people call the request line for it
Cipher sounds keep pushing rewind on it
Look out for the album with the Canibus design on it
Twelve o'clock in the morning, you'll be standing in line for it
I'm a live poet, with a sharp ear and eye for it
‘Cause I tear down mics, and put an out-of-sign order on it

Yo, in linear terms, my thirty-three degree, and a third
Words will give you thirty-third degree burns
First I write thirty-three lines to a verse
About how I created the Earth out of thirty-three quirks
Thirty-three of my peers never thought it would work
For thirty-three days, I started my relentless research
And I figured, if Jigga could do, '22 2's'
As an mc, then I could do, thirty-three three's
Suddenly it occurred, at three-thirty, on March third
It came to me like God's word
I started to load my thirty-three caliber Mossberg
Went to the top of the Empire State, on thirty-third
Thirty-three gunshots was heard
Thirty-three pedestrians lay wounded or dead, on the curb
Thirty-three squad cars rushed to the scene
As soon as they heard some mad-man had gone berserk
I demanded thirty-three million
Or I was going to kill thirty-three of the women and children in the building

UNFINISHED after 33'3s