(Ergonomical)
|
|
[Sample:]
|
"And this variation of analogy of working that comes from
|
On this idea that they were created on the Earth
|
These giants were created by the natural themselves
|
They can manifest.."
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
Nothin' to prove, nothin' to lose
|
Can-I-Bus - bussin' in the booth
|
Straight out (The Goetia) to eat ya
|
This is the fire breather
|
Nothin' to prove, nothin' to lose
|
Can-I-Bus and Mic Club - bussin' in the booth
|
|
[Canibus:]
|
Microphone check one-two, you know what it is
|
Can-I-Bus, still gettin' biz
|
Rip mics, gas molecules emit light
|
I bring delta T.C. squared to the fistfight
|
First, I developed the fence
|
Then negotiate disarmament from the other side of the fence
|
Hence, the tetrahedron is a prison for a four-headed demon
|
I weaken, every time I see him
|
Fight for my freedom, under the fig tree bleedin'
|
I create Hip-Hop but don't need it
|
I turn my back on rap like God turned his back on Eden
|
To return like Cat Stevens
|
For those who believe it, I live it, I breathe it
|
I smash mics to pieces, that's the secret
|
I cannot fail, I rock bells
|
On the Ho Chi Minh trail to the song of the nightingale
|
Any artist can turn a garden to a desert
|
But can he turn a desert to a garden?
|
That's where I come in, runnin', straight gunnin'
|
Ready to punish, nigga I don't budge one inch
|
Fuck it, double the budget
|
Niggaz turned Hip-Hop to somethin' it wasn't
|
Made it hard to love it
|
So I come back to conquer with a monster mantra
|
My spiritual father is Swami Vivekananda
|
Rhymes promote freedom, stabilize the region
|
Think for yourselves, it's just like breathin'
|
The departed Hip-Hop artist regardin' the condition of the carnage
|
Dead farmers I already saw it
|
Back to the army, back to pituitary
|
Back to the heartbeat, off-beat on a dark street
|
Comfy, aggressive assistive trainin'
|
Hajji somewhere waitin', one minute remainin'
|
Satellites counter locatin', the bloodbath begins bathin'
|
We both believe we're fightin' Satan
|
'Cause we both got the same God, who accepts the same sacrifice
|
Blood, tears, life, fine picks and trowels are real
|
I was holdin' a weapon when I was overpowered, there was no album
|
Thirty-minute sessions cleanin' weapons askin' myself questions
|
About what happened last mission, Radiation isolation
|
I'ma asshole but I'm patient for a nurse with nice shaped tits
|
I'm a poet, my house is a palace
|
A small cavernous passage, darker than the Catacombs of Paris
|
Chateau de Canibus, Saint Germaine sadomasochist
|
I don't use chains to trap a bitch
|
Don't get distracted, repeat your rap's schematic
|
Over and over until it's automatic
|
My body is a machine, machines need fuel
|
Two gastro-nasal tubes, feed me smoothie food
|
The recluse clearly produced the abstract schematic
|
You can use over a glass of fresh-squeezed pear juice
|
Right side paralyzed above the waist
|
Below the waist the left side paralyzed, this a unique case
|
It's a challenge to rhyme great, lost weight
|
Lost sense of smell and taste, wastin' away payin' attention to space
|
Sayin' "wait!" open the gate, rusty screwers reverberate
|
Through the deserted desolate space of this purgative place
|
Grimoires and metaphor law, make your skin crawl
|
Nothin' to prove, this is lyrical law
|
|
-----------------
|
The Goetia
|
| Canibus |
