[Intro/Chorus: Canibus]
|
"If you can't walk the walk," nah don't even try it
|
When I'm wired, I spit fire
|
And come stomp on your brain, brain, brain...
|
|
[Verse 1: Canibus]
|
Yo! What about hip-hop, is so interesting?
|
Emcees battle for respect, it's intensive
|
Spit rhymes while I shimmy up the cliff side
|
Before you ask why I'm tryin to show you where Rip died
|
The questions give me more insight into your mind
|
than them whack rhymes I hear you recitin all the time
|
Restore and re-establish it, revive it, revamp it
|
Refresh yourself with something organic, and mechanic
|
Verses be so strong they are generally interpreted wrong
|
Prone to correspond their responses from the songs
|
Mr. Motherfuckin Know-It-All, bet you ten gold banola bars
|
I'm smarter then those fifth graders are
|
The writing technique is from a lion-headed beast
|
Sciatic nerve got me spittin automatic words
|
Ideas eliminated in the order they were created
|
amid specative language about how I even made it
|
Rebel without a cause, spittin ten billion bars
|
to the cold corpse cellophane wrapped on the floor
|
There's more, I declare war, bomb 'em!
|
Pound after pound I come stomp on 'em
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Verse 2: Journalist]
|
We bite without barkin, you just a target
|
I shot darts and stomp on your brain in Doc Martins
|
with boats shoes, so crude, my pardon
|
Soon as the clock startin, show moves I got from old dudes
|
who used to smoke Kools by the carton
|
Set fire to you, I'm the arson
|
Was clappin at cats, before they applauded for John Carson
|
Anybody with good sense, know the footprints
|
solemn leads is from the Air Max 93's
|
'til everything you see is Siamese
|
I've been stompin since chicks from Martin was buyin reeds
|
We stomp on your cane, and sell it to niggaz
|
The niggaz stomp on your brain
|
Who wanna tangle with the black orangutang?
|
I came to bang, it ain't a thang
|
Name a name he'll be history
|
Nothin more than a mystery, a Stephen King novel
|
Either they ain't been watchin or they need a clean goggle
|
to follow the footsteps of the T Rex, detect
|
whoever leap next from a speed jet without a parachute
|
Turn you into carrot soup troop
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Verse 3: Canibus]
|
The duck-billed dino was eaten by the eighty ton rhino
|
A very long time ago
|
Soul, rock and roll, RTJ double-oh
|
Now you know nigga, lock and load
|
How can I create the right sentence to help explain
|
how it feels when a whack emcee rhymes for Germaine?
|
Don't be a water brain, make you spit your rhymes in quarantine
|
Put you up against War Machine
|
Sixty second rounds, keep your metaphors clean
|
Sleepwalk when I dream, spit Listerine green
|
The (Microphone Fiend) on the scene
|
Call on them scream, he might break you off a sixteen
|
Laser beam lyrics comin at you at an altered speed
|
The (Altered Beast) don't pause for the beat
|
This is lyrical law, you will be among the first to compete
|
to run, walk or crawl over beats
|
The goal is too tall to reach, can't touch the Spit Boss' feet
|
You pole vault into a wall of defeat
|
I love Biggie cause I know what he means
|
When he told you, "It was all a dream"
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Stomp On Ya Brain
|
| Canibus |
