Beasts From The East

The forecast: showers heavy at times with occasional thunderstorms today, and a high of 89 degrees. Partial clearing tonight with a low of 74.

(Word up. The cop said to me, "Yo kid! Damn!")

Yo, we come through like Bulls, see niggas takin two pulls and pass

Nigga, watch your back once you talk out your ass

I pack a .380 in my stash for protection

Family deranged, the world is acting crazed

I never thought I'd make it, it was hectic when I scrambled

On point like a knife I'm takin life as a gamble

Livin in the rotten apple, ayo where every core is rotten

All my niggas rest in peace you see you gone but not forgotten

Now my main wifey, dead as shady chicks

Official Lost Boy since the year of '86

And fuck these crooked niggas I could kill 'em with the passion

At times I feel like slashing in Jamaica Queens fashion

You think, you can fuck around, but kid you just thinking

It's over when I'm sober, imagine when I'm drinking

Without blinking man, I'll tear your crew like pages

I'll rip you from the backyards, puff chants in stages

A+ the lyrically superb one

Spittin rhymes off the top of the tongue to burn ya ear drum

Rotten shit, make the opposite team call a time out

Knockin niggas three time my size out

The crowd loves me, so when I ain't around they ask for me

I buckle up and catch wreck like a crash dummy

For the fast money, I get up in that ass money

The fact you tryin' to test me kinda bugs me

I leave crews fed up, like handicap niggas tryna get up

Emcees get wet up with lyrical gun pellets

I blow up the spot when it's time to rock

I speak out my voice box'll peak out at a hundred watts

Who wanna cipha? I get dumb

Word to my mother, the Father, the Holy Ghost and Rev. Run

When it's all said and done, I end the service

Get cocked in the type ofs average emcees worship

Yo yo yo, yo big dog turn the track up

(Fuck how you feel, fuck with the lyrical skills and get peeled)

Yo fake emcees step to the rear

Real emcees bring this shit up north

(Fuck how you feel, fuck with the lyrical skills and get.)

My style is Milk of Magnesia, clutch defies speeding bus

The more the merrier, secure the area

My life familiar, is ultimate superior

We don't jack cars, we jack for aircraft carriers

I bounce like trampolines, when I be blowing the fiends to pieces

Hem 'em like sewing machines and Jesus

When the shadows of the barrel pointing out my boy Camaro

I get punished like pharaoh for splittin'

You better off singing Christmas carols for Christmas

because I'm on point like bow and arrow, equipment

The president of chicken head conventions

I give you a deluxe Ku Klux lynchin'

I got a headache from the, stress success not wearing a vest

5-11 for being dirty, quartz at 9: 30

Yo, Mr.Cheeks, I made this bitch call police

She tried swallowing the nine piece

but got a warranty on false teeth

I return like Makaveli on 18 inch Pirellis

Assault and battery like my palms is Eveready

Sharp as machetes

Matter of fact I slap from cognac and keep the beef heavy

The Canibus brings the sickest drama

Fierce enough to pierce the thickest armor

I smack bitches for tryin to suck dick through a condom

Playing with the mic is something I won't do

My only concern when I approach you, is to roast you

I smoke you and whoever you standing close to

and make every man in your crew deny that he knows you

Defeating, niggas like Segal Steven

Putting emcees in, positions to prevent 'em from breathing

I'll make you question any and everything you've ever believed in

by peeping your deepest secrets like psychic readers

What's the matter with y'all, I splatter y'all

against the motherfucking wall with these raw lyrics I catapult

None of y'all got the balls big enough to battle

I go On & On like Erykah Badu

A hundred times nicer than the best there's

Twice as African as KRS is, who wanna test this?

Fuck y'all you don't impress me and no one can test me

A emcee so ill, I got AIDS scared to catch me

All that shit you popping'll stop, when I put you in a headlock

and apply pressure 'til I crush your motherfucking noggin

I grab mics and push niggas to the left

so fast they hearts end up on the right sides of your chests

My hypothesis, is that nobody can see this

lyrical genius, I got it sewn like a seamstress

But if you want to battle, I'm down

If you got nine lives, I'll take eight of them off your hands right now

Step up and get your neck cut from ear to ear

If you survive, then you can cover your scar with a beard

I'm the illest from Queens to the New Jerusalem Briddicks

Anyone who ain't feeling my shidick can suck my didick

You need to quit it, if you ain't spitting

more than 50 bars per minute cause you ain't in lyrical fitness

Kicking boring raps with metaphors that's wack

All of y'all motherfuckers need NordicTrack

to get ya weight up, fucking with Canibus you get ate up

Beat down and sprayed up, just for bringing my name up

Been rocking longer than niggas twice my age

Back in the days before Bob Marley was rocking a fade

Before Honest Abe signed the paper that freed slaves

Before Neanderthals was drawing on walls in caves

I existed, in the Garden of Eden and getting lifted

Sticking dick to Eve before she was Adam's mistress

Before Christ created Christmas, I been in lyrical fitness

The Canibus is spitting 'til he's spitless

50 bars of total sickness, you won't forget this

I'm putting every wack emcee alive on my shit list

Verbally vicious, telekinetically gifted

Took you a minute, to exhibit that I'm sick wit it

Now you tell me who you think is damaging shit

Going once, going twice, sold! to that nigga named Canibus

Me and Mr.Cheeks, A+, and Funk Doctor

hopping out the Huey helicopter to suey chop ya

Group Home and Def Squad

9-7 nigga