Canibus, Journalist - Who Shot Ya Freestyle (DJ Clue) lyrics
[Canibus, Journalist - Who Shot Ya Freestyle DJ Clue lyrics]
I'm faster than leopards running
Across the vast desert
At 22 yards per second to
Catch me the daily delicatessen
With 30 minutes to eat 'em
40 minutes to digest 'em
And 50 minutes for it to
Pass through my intestines
So ask yourself a question:
Can the Canibus rhyme?
Is a fuckin porcupine half swine?
No time to make up your mind
You wanna run or die?
Clip you while you running by
Trip you up from behind
My rhymes confuse niggas like
Somebody tryna gangbang
Wearin a blue shirt and red pants
Throwin up signs with their left hand
Standin out on the corner at Wetlands with
A confederate flag for a headband
God damn eggplants, y'all gettin me vexed man
Cause, I'm surrounded by garbage
Like Fred Sanf
And I can't seem to get away from it
I dreamt that I stabbed Leviathan through
The stomach and ate from it
In my past life I slayed hundreds
In the life before that
I played trumpets to warn you
That I was comin
There's one billion ways to die
And I already tried
Nine hundred million nine hundred
And ninety nine
When I aim and fire my rhymes
Like a hundred cannon balls flying
Striking you one at a time in a parallel line
While the art of emceeing is steady dying
Canibus and Journalist bringin the rhyme
You against me no contest
My tongue hydraulics
Strong enough to flip a 64
Impala with 3 adult passengers
And a 400 pound driver
And drown you in less than an
Ounce of your own saliva
Rubberface rappers get
Stretched like elastic
Claymation characters wit verbal vernacular
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker
Paddlin' across the Niagara
My afterburners'll be burnin' you after
Ya' body already been splashed with acid
And you turn to ashes
Assassins camouflaged in the grass blastin'
Leavin' blood all over ya'
Lady like Jackie Onassis
I'll fly ya' body outta Dallas
Perform plastic surgery while we
Airborne and switch caskets
Then lie to the masses
I'll tell'em that you got murdered
Over some East West beef, between rappers
Radio stations'll express they sadness
Play classics back to back and pass
Out "Stop The Violence" pamphlets
Just imagine, every night ya' girls screwing
Ya' best friend
While you in hell throwin' tantrums
I'll be lampin' in a mansion
Somewhere out in the Hamptons
Givin' some pretty ass bitch a spankin'
Nigga you can't win
I'm laughin' cause you a has been
You can't get ya' groove back
So don't even bother askin' Angela Bassett
You just get ya' ass kicked
Get ya' head chopped off and
Dropped in a basket
My left arm's taken but my right one's free
That means I could diss
Another muthafuckin' emcee
Wit rhymes that appear clearer
Than liquid crystal
My lyrical is more visual
Than television screen pixels
I fire pistols
Hit you wit' miniature missiles
Riddle ya' body wit' holes then
Watch the blood sprinkle
Ya probably had no idea what
You was gettin' into
On the mic, Can-IBus is invincible
Yo, yo, ayo, nobody can flow with Bis
Rock a show with Bis
Or go toe to toe with Bis
None of y'all can coexist
We livin' in an Ice Age and it's cold as shit
A hundred thousand dollar price range
Niggas is frozen stiff all I know is this
My felt tip hotter than hell get
A hundred eighty-six thousand miles per
Sec can melt flesh give a nigga a tan
Aerosol cans expand and explode in my hand
While I promote that new Canibus jam
Niggas feel it underground with stalactites
Hangin' from the ceiling
Live and direct
The illest emcee, and I possess the ability
To run at top speeds without bending my knees
I destroy shit, pinpoint astroids at orbit
Then hurl y'all thousands of miles
Per hour towards it goddamn heathens
Grab my hands around your neck region
Then i start squeezin till you stop breathin'
You weaklins is playin tug-of-war
Wit ya tongues
I knock the teeth out ya gums and
Suck the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your
Physical frame could never sustain
You’ll probably never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you rhyme sick?
I leave you lyin stiff
Pull you behind my horse til
I break ya spine, bitch stop cryin bitch
Before i hit ya wit the iron fist
You can’t rhyme bitch
The one triple nine’s mine bitch
The pain’ll make ya voice change octaves
From low-pitched to high-pitched
Every hour we kill a hostage
We judge mc’s by they lyrical fitness
And punish dj’s for puttin corny
Stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper bitches for askin
For my autograph and pictures
You’ll be scared to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back
I’ll scratch your’s bitch
I’ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
I got an atomic sub
Armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood
Now on some battling shit
My verbal lateral grip
Keeps my tongue glued to the A-Dat
When I'm tracking em swift
Let my spit lubricate the chap on my lips
And make you rappers have fit's cause
I'm back in the mix
Fuck a pad and a pen, write rhymes on a IBM
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 reigns sovereign
With a deeper conscience than the
Prophet Muhammad was born with
My brain cavity is 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 fear 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 wack
Ass Wagon babbling about nothing
Nah black, real hoodrats can get it on black
Meet me at The Tunnel where
Pussy cats get robbed at
Rubber face rappers get
Stretched like elastic
Claymation characters with verbal vernaculars
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker
Paddlin' across the Niagara
Fake emcees haul ass like they running track
Wherever canibus or rakim at
Across the vast desert
At 22 yards per second to
Catch me the daily delicatessen
With 30 minutes to eat 'em
40 minutes to digest 'em
And 50 minutes for it to
Pass through my intestines
So ask yourself a question:
Can the Canibus rhyme?
Is a fuckin porcupine half swine?
No time to make up your mind
You wanna run or die?
Clip you while you running by
Trip you up from behind
My rhymes confuse niggas like
Somebody tryna gangbang
Wearin a blue shirt and red pants
Throwin up signs with their left hand
Standin out on the corner at Wetlands with
A confederate flag for a headband
God damn eggplants, y'all gettin me vexed man
Cause, I'm surrounded by garbage
Like Fred Sanf
And I can't seem to get away from it
I dreamt that I stabbed Leviathan through
The stomach and ate from it
In my past life I slayed hundreds
In the life before that
I played trumpets to warn you
That I was comin
There's one billion ways to die
And I already tried
Nine hundred million nine hundred
And ninety nine
When I aim and fire my rhymes
Like a hundred cannon balls flying
Striking you one at a time in a parallel line
While the art of emceeing is steady dying
Canibus and Journalist bringin the rhyme
You against me no contest
My tongue hydraulics
Strong enough to flip a 64
Impala with 3 adult passengers
And a 400 pound driver
And drown you in less than an
Ounce of your own saliva
Rubberface rappers get
Stretched like elastic
Claymation characters wit verbal vernacular
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker
Paddlin' across the Niagara
My afterburners'll be burnin' you after
Ya' body already been splashed with acid
And you turn to ashes
Assassins camouflaged in the grass blastin'
Leavin' blood all over ya'
Lady like Jackie Onassis
I'll fly ya' body outta Dallas
Perform plastic surgery while we
Airborne and switch caskets
Then lie to the masses
I'll tell'em that you got murdered
Over some East West beef, between rappers
Radio stations'll express they sadness
Play classics back to back and pass
Out "Stop The Violence" pamphlets
Just imagine, every night ya' girls screwing
Ya' best friend
While you in hell throwin' tantrums
I'll be lampin' in a mansion
Somewhere out in the Hamptons
Givin' some pretty ass bitch a spankin'
Nigga you can't win
I'm laughin' cause you a has been
You can't get ya' groove back
So don't even bother askin' Angela Bassett
You just get ya' ass kicked
Get ya' head chopped off and
Dropped in a basket
My left arm's taken but my right one's free
That means I could diss
Another muthafuckin' emcee
Wit rhymes that appear clearer
Than liquid crystal
My lyrical is more visual
Than television screen pixels
I fire pistols
Hit you wit' miniature missiles
Riddle ya' body wit' holes then
Watch the blood sprinkle
Ya probably had no idea what
You was gettin' into
On the mic, Can-IBus is invincible
Yo, yo, ayo, nobody can flow with Bis
Rock a show with Bis
Or go toe to toe with Bis
None of y'all can coexist
We livin' in an Ice Age and it's cold as shit
A hundred thousand dollar price range
Niggas is frozen stiff all I know is this
My felt tip hotter than hell get
A hundred eighty-six thousand miles per
Sec can melt flesh give a nigga a tan
Aerosol cans expand and explode in my hand
While I promote that new Canibus jam
Niggas feel it underground with stalactites
Hangin' from the ceiling
Live and direct
The illest emcee, and I possess the ability
To run at top speeds without bending my knees
I destroy shit, pinpoint astroids at orbit
Then hurl y'all thousands of miles
Per hour towards it goddamn heathens
Grab my hands around your neck region
Then i start squeezin till you stop breathin'
You weaklins is playin tug-of-war
Wit ya tongues
I knock the teeth out ya gums and
Suck the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your
Physical frame could never sustain
You’ll probably never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you rhyme sick?
I leave you lyin stiff
Pull you behind my horse til
I break ya spine, bitch stop cryin bitch
Before i hit ya wit the iron fist
You can’t rhyme bitch
The one triple nine’s mine bitch
The pain’ll make ya voice change octaves
From low-pitched to high-pitched
Every hour we kill a hostage
We judge mc’s by they lyrical fitness
And punish dj’s for puttin corny
Stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper bitches for askin
For my autograph and pictures
You’ll be scared to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back
I’ll scratch your’s bitch
I’ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
I got an atomic sub
Armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood
Now on some battling shit
My verbal lateral grip
Keeps my tongue glued to the A-Dat
When I'm tracking em swift
Let my spit lubricate the chap on my lips
And make you rappers have fit's cause
I'm back in the mix
Fuck a pad and a pen, write rhymes on a IBM
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 reigns sovereign
With a deeper conscience than the
Prophet Muhammad was born with
My brain cavity is 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 fear 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 wack
Ass Wagon babbling about nothing
Nah black, real hoodrats can get it on black
Meet me at The Tunnel where
Pussy cats get robbed at
Rubber face rappers get
Stretched like elastic
Claymation characters with verbal vernaculars
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker
Paddlin' across the Niagara
Fake emcees haul ass like they running track
Wherever canibus or rakim at