Killah Priest, Canibus - Bop Your Head lyrics

[Killah Priest, Canibus - Bop Your Head lyrics]

Yea, yea, yea, yea yea, yea - fuck that!
I'm set it off - yea, yea, ya shitted
Ya in some shit now, son
It's on now, motherfuckers can suck my dick
I'm back! Fuck that shit!
Ready to eat niggas up, beat
They ass and e'rything, son
I'mma prove this shit, right here
Me and my nigga - what!?

The emperor, chief sinister, street minister
Guarenteed in two bars to finish ya
React like a cat when he arches back
Give a fake rapper a heart attack
Once I start to rap
I'm a vocalist, nigga, supposed to rip
Last Poet's told me this
Hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist
Then I finish ya off
With my tremendous horse-kick
What now, nigga? Look at ya, talk shit


Can't do it
Cuz you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out
Ya trained all year, in a karate class
It took one second
To put yo' ass in a body bag
From a shotty blast, i walk up in ya club
And ya parties don't last
I like to pop shit, don't get me started
I slap y'all motherfuckers like y'all
Little kids in kindergarten
Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys harden
Now watch this
I'mma call my whole motherfuckin squadron
And tell niggas to just start robbin
Cuz y'all niggas is fucked up
And Brooklyn niggas is really ready to get ya
I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open
But don't worry, cuz I'mma stitch ya
With a rusty screwdriver

Niggas bop yo' heads to this, real shit
Call up yo' clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' streets and village
Spare that new shit, Priest killed it
Y! Niggas bop yo' heads to this, real shit
Call up yo' clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' streets and village
Spare that new shit, 'bus killed it

Yo, yo, yo yo I'm a Macabeast MC and
I possess the ability
To run at top speed without bendin my knees
I destory shit, pin-point asteroids in orbit
Then, hurl niggas thousands of miles an hour
Towards it fuckin heathen
Wrap my hands around ya neck region
Then I start squeezin 'til ya 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
Put you in a horsemen heimlich
Til I break ya spine, bitch
Stop cryin bitch, before I hit
Ya wit the Iron, bitch
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 our autograph and pictures
You'll be scared to leave the club wit us
You scratch 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
The four horsemen on the
Back of four quadripeds
Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads
Motherfuckers!
(There it is) So bop ya heads to that
Uh (There it is)

Fuckin pussy emcee's
Gon' get a shot in the eye
Y'all niggas talk behind nigga's backs
Y'all niggas better bop ya mothafuckin heads
Before we blow it off
Ya fuckin perfume missin idiots
Y'all niggas always runnin
Go run and tell that
Go on, runnin, run behind somebody's back
Run and tell that and take
These fuckin slugs wit ya
We gon' get ya mothafuckin clown yea

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