Canibus - The Goetia lyrics
[Canibus - The Goetia lyrics]
Necronomicon and there is variation in the
Analogy of where these
Things have come from one is the idea
That they were created by
These giants they were
Created by the watcher themselves
They can manifest
‘Nothing to Prove’, ‘Nothing to Lose’
Can-IBus busting in the booth
Straight out the Goetia to eat you
This is the fire breather
’Nothing to Prove’, ‘Nothing to Lose’
Can-IBus and Mic Club busting in the booth
Microphone check one-two, you know what it is
Can-IBus, still getting biz
With mics, gas molecules emit light
I bring delta TC squared to the fistfight
First I developed offence
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 bleeding
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 into a desert
But can he turn a desert into a garden?
That's where I come in, running
Straight gunning
Ready to punish, nigga I don't budge one inch
Fuck it, double the budget
Niggas turned Hip Hop to something 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 breathing
The departed Hip Hop artist regarding
The condition of the carnage
Dead farmers I already saw it
Back to the army, back to Pathari, Tari
Back to the heartbeat
Offbeat on a dark street
Comfy aggressive assistive training
Hajji somewhere waiting, one minute remaining
Satellites counter locating
The bloodbath begins bathing
We both believe we're fighting Satan
But we both got the same god
Who accepts the same sacrifice
Blood, tears, life
Fine picks and trowels are real
I was holding a weapon
When I was overpowered, there was no album
Thirty minute sessions cleaning weapons
Asking myself questions
About what happened last mission
Radiation isolation
I'm an asshole but I'm patient for
A nurse with nice shaped tit's
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 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
Freshly squeezed glass of 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
Wasting away paying attention to space
Saying "Wait! Open the gate"
Rusty screwers reverberate
Through the deserted desolate space
Of this purgative place
Grimoires of metaphor law make
Your skin crawl
’Nothing to Prove’, this is lyrical law
Analogy of where these
Things have come from one is the idea
That they were created by
These giants they were
Created by the watcher themselves
They can manifest
‘Nothing to Prove’, ‘Nothing to Lose’
Can-IBus busting in the booth
Straight out the Goetia to eat you
This is the fire breather
’Nothing to Prove’, ‘Nothing to Lose’
Can-IBus and Mic Club busting in the booth
Microphone check one-two, you know what it is
Can-IBus, still getting biz
With mics, gas molecules emit light
I bring delta TC squared to the fistfight
First I developed offence
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 bleeding
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 into a desert
But can he turn a desert into a garden?
That's where I come in, running
Straight gunning
Ready to punish, nigga I don't budge one inch
Fuck it, double the budget
Niggas turned Hip Hop to something 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 breathing
The departed Hip Hop artist regarding
The condition of the carnage
Dead farmers I already saw it
Back to the army, back to Pathari, Tari
Back to the heartbeat
Offbeat on a dark street
Comfy aggressive assistive training
Hajji somewhere waiting, one minute remaining
Satellites counter locating
The bloodbath begins bathing
We both believe we're fighting Satan
But we both got the same god
Who accepts the same sacrifice
Blood, tears, life
Fine picks and trowels are real
I was holding a weapon
When I was overpowered, there was no album
Thirty minute sessions cleaning weapons
Asking myself questions
About what happened last mission
Radiation isolation
I'm an asshole but I'm patient for
A nurse with nice shaped tit's
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 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
Freshly squeezed glass of 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
Wasting away paying attention to space
Saying "Wait! Open the gate"
Rusty screwers reverberate
Through the deserted desolate space
Of this purgative place
Grimoires of metaphor law make
Your skin crawl
’Nothing to Prove’, this is lyrical law