Canibus, Journalist - Stretch Armstrong Freestyle lyrics
[Canibus, Journalist - Stretch Armstrong Freestyle lyrics]
Yo, it’s Can-IBus the illest emcee
Get slapped in the face with
Murder Mixtape Part 3
Aight, keep it locked y’all
Stretch Armstrong and Whoo Kid
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Who got the streets jumping
Off with the force
To short-circuit motherboards and melt rubber
Chords plugged in the wall
I’m a thousand metaphors ahead of y’all
Drink a bottle of Irish Moss and
Outrun a horse by twenty yards
Faster than turbo-charged race cars
With double carbs
Stronger than the sway bars that
Be on muscle cars
Think my sophomore album is soft?
You got it wrong
Stretch knew all along Bis was the bomb
A 100 Bar monster thirsty
For blood like piranhas
Arms bigger than pythons, legs like anacondas
Observe how the rhyme blurs, twists and turns
Shifts and curves
The most disturbed nigga on Earth
Fuck layman’s terms
If you can’t listen and learn
You get burned then submerged in
The ocean of words
Last year I know for a fact
I put a lot of rappers on Prozac
And only got a gold plaque
Bringing the pain since I’ve
Been in this game
Crushing niggas like a ball and chain
Connected to a swinging crane
Lyrically the Hip-Hop Statue of Liberty
Could flatten New York City
With seismic activity
Got rap artists putting
Out restraining orders
Scared to death I’ma run up on
Them at their live performance
With a sharp object
Assassinate them at their live concert
And take the audience for hostage
Torture the whole front row in the process
Leave them slaughtered and sacrifice them
On the turntable altars
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Mixtape 2000AD, After Disaster
Flies buzz around a million rappers’ cadavers
Never been the type to talk
My ice-grill’s like looking down the wide
Jaws of a white shark ‘Bout to rip off your
Arms like perforated paper
A hundred times more sharper
Than stainless-steel razors
Shock you with an electrically-charged taser
Till you turn blue in the
Face and die from asphyxiation
The stench of a thousand ounces
Grab you by the throat and blow my
Second hand weed smoke down it
Don’t give a fuck what month you dropping in
I’ll be on the radio hollering
"Fuck you and your cult following"
You cum-swallowing transsexual fag
With crabs and breasts that sag
Dressed in drag
Running full page ads in a porno mag
With pictures of you with a dick in your
Mouth and a dick in your ass
Get slapped in the face with
Murder Mixtape Part 3
Aight, keep it locked y’all
Stretch Armstrong and Whoo Kid
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Who got the streets jumping
Off with the force
To short-circuit motherboards and melt rubber
Chords plugged in the wall
I’m a thousand metaphors ahead of y’all
Drink a bottle of Irish Moss and
Outrun a horse by twenty yards
Faster than turbo-charged race cars
With double carbs
Stronger than the sway bars that
Be on muscle cars
Think my sophomore album is soft?
You got it wrong
Stretch knew all along Bis was the bomb
A 100 Bar monster thirsty
For blood like piranhas
Arms bigger than pythons, legs like anacondas
Observe how the rhyme blurs, twists and turns
Shifts and curves
The most disturbed nigga on Earth
Fuck layman’s terms
If you can’t listen and learn
You get burned then submerged in
The ocean of words
Last year I know for a fact
I put a lot of rappers on Prozac
And only got a gold plaque
Bringing the pain since I’ve
Been in this game
Crushing niggas like a ball and chain
Connected to a swinging crane
Lyrically the Hip-Hop Statue of Liberty
Could flatten New York City
With seismic activity
Got rap artists putting
Out restraining orders
Scared to death I’ma run up on
Them at their live performance
With a sharp object
Assassinate them at their live concert
And take the audience for hostage
Torture the whole front row in the process
Leave them slaughtered and sacrifice them
On the turntable altars
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Live and direct, live in the flesh
Mixtape 2000, Whoo Kid and Stretch
Mixtape 2000AD, After Disaster
Flies buzz around a million rappers’ cadavers
Never been the type to talk
My ice-grill’s like looking down the wide
Jaws of a white shark ‘Bout to rip off your
Arms like perforated paper
A hundred times more sharper
Than stainless-steel razors
Shock you with an electrically-charged taser
Till you turn blue in the
Face and die from asphyxiation
The stench of a thousand ounces
Grab you by the throat and blow my
Second hand weed smoke down it
Don’t give a fuck what month you dropping in
I’ll be on the radio hollering
"Fuck you and your cult following"
You cum-swallowing transsexual fag
With crabs and breasts that sag
Dressed in drag
Running full page ads in a porno mag
With pictures of you with a dick in your
Mouth and a dick in your ass