|
It's All About The Ass!!
Location: In a pool of mayonnaise!!
|
Quote:
Artist: Canibus
Album: Can-I-Bus
Song: Buckingham Palace
Typed by: Dymortify@aol.com, OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash
[Canibus]
Aiyyo I stand outside the gates of Buckingham Palace
Selling reefer, puffin the chalice with the Beefeaters
Gettin so high that whenever I drop shit
it'll land on the window of your airplane cockpit
Canibus with the hot shit, "Crazy I. Click"
Niggaz is bloody idiots thinkin that they can stop this
I'll increase my strength, to a super human extent
Nigga your rhyme ain't worth sixpence
And if you can hear, smell, see, touch, and taste
then you don't need six senses to feel me punch you in the face
From Brixton, to Clapham Common, my lyrics invade Europe
like Joseph Stalin, and murder niggaz for rhymin
Spittin fire, with gasoline for saliva
As drunk as Lady Diana's driver wit reporters behind her
Alcohol in the hands of a minor
I got you panickin like bombs, with 30 second timers
Clear the buildin, evacuate women and children
Fuck what you feelin nigga, I came here to kill em
Straight shittin, from New York to Great Britain
And when we do shows we make the Queen pay admission, what!
Chorus: Canibus (and crowd)
When I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"
Can-I (BUS!) Can-I (BUS!)
Yo, when I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"
Can-I (BUS!) Can-I (BUS!)
[Canibus]
Yo.. yo..
Yo prepare for the worst
This next verse is the face of death
Me without lyrics is like a porn flick without sex
Illmatic, my lyrical skills are Jurassic
With more flavor then Skittles when I'm digitally mastered
I go off like a cannon and blow up the planet
with "No Fear," like them clothes white boys be wearin
I'm tougher than denim, lethal like venomous snake bites
The marijuana makes my eyes bright red like brake lights
There ain't a party I couldn't rock, believe that
There ain't a microphone brave enough to give me feedback
I'm strong, my word is Bond like James
Niggaz be tryin to test, but they 'week' like seven days
MC's run away when I kick it; they act so chicken
they should come with a large drink and a biscuit
My style's radioactive, massive atomic
I plan to push the Earth in front of Halley's Comet
Breakin the +Facts of Life+ down like Tudy, I'm raw like sushi
with more +Vocab+, than three fuckin Fugees
So recognize or be hospitalized
cause lyrically on a scale of one to ten I'm twenty-five
Chorus
[Canibus]
Yo, yo, a little bit of weed and some Henessey
got me ready to set it with kinetic energy
See I need much more energy then my enemies
If I wanna make more Bill's then Bellamy
So I could be on MTV
with women constantly tellin me I resemble Billy Dee
I make fly rhymes to get my name on the scene
Then when I'm on the scene I do shows to get the green
Then I take the green, buy a automobile machine
for that thing on page 43, in Jet Magazine
Canibus is the ultimate executioner's dream
Swingin the guillotine, cause whenever the head is severed
from the human body with a sharp enough weapon
the brain remains conscious for ten seconds
Long enough for me to give you one last message
And when you get to Hell you can tell Lucifer I said it
Don't ever get it confused, fuckin with Canibus
the human Rubix Cube like you got somethin to prove
Yo, whoever grabs the mic after me'll get booed
Get everything in the club thrown at you and your crew
From Moet bottles to bar stools, fruits and foods
You got a album out, you get hit with your CD too
Runnin outside, cryin, lyin, denyin
that you ain't The Gay Rapper, but you got fucked by him
What's the difference? Y'all niggaz still ain't in lyrical fitness
Too busy mixin your bid'ness with your bitches
While I be in the lab composin forbidden scriptures
So wicked I got, Satan ejaculatin on his fingers
Like Dirk Diggler, in the middle of +Boogie Nights+
Sniffin white, livin the hype, he ruined his life
But I'm a MC of a different type, yeah that's right
Make sure your shit is tight, or I'ma snatch yo' mic, nigga!
Chorus
|
Quote:
Artist: Binary Star
Album: Masters of the Universe
Song: Honest Expression
Typed by: XxMerkutioxX@aol.com *
* send corrections to the typist
(Voice sample
"Ultimately, martial art means honestly expressing yourself. It is easy for
me to put on a show, and be cocky so I can show you some really fancy
movement. But to express oneself honestly, not lying to oneself, and to
express myself honestly enough; that my friend is very hard to do."
(Verse 1)
Like sand through the hourglass
So are the days of our lives
And for that lie, only we thrive
Awakenings, as we make the dead come alive
Rise and walk my son, come into the light
Inside the dark, we illuminate mics
Give knowledge to mediocre, the will to Neanderthal
Filter to the smog, digital to analog
We steady advancing, rhyme enhancing
Simple minds can't keep up with this
(Verse 2)
I'm a put it on the table
I ain't a thug nigga and playa
I ain't playful, I'm jus' a non-sinner
A man without label, standin' on my own two
Tryin' to stay stable
Speakin' what I know, to only what I label
I ain't the kinda guy who carry out for dough
The material cat who walk around for show
I'm jus' everyday, merry-way Joe-in-the-go
While other's go wit' the flow
I ain't never been the one to follow trend
I do my own bit, can't keep up with the Joneses
I'm on my own shit, I don't care what you drink
What you stress, how you dress, or where you got the link
I ain't impressed
These lames walk around like mice in the maze
Tryin' to get up on cheese, its just a rap race
One escapes time seems to make
Man worships things over the supreme thing
A stop for lots, should I join the hypocrites
Or side with the suckers, by choice
It makes no difference, that you're a product of environment
Is just coincidence, the world's a violent place baby
There ain't no more innocence, or civil men of penitence
Just ignorance, casting the right from wrong
They mimic shit they see on TV or hear in a song
What they tell you they on, a sucker act up every minute
The righteous live on, but them niggas is invented
(Verse 3)
Yo, I ain't hardcore, I don't pack a nine millimeter
Most a y'all gangsta rappers ain't hardcore neither
Whoever get mad, then I'm talkin' 'bout you
Claim you fear no man, but never walk wit' our crew
Where I'm from, your reputation don't mean jack
So what, you pack gats and you sell fiends crack
You ain't big time, my man
You ain't no different from the next cat in my neighborhood who did time
Rhyme after rhymes it's the same topic
What make you think you hardcore 'cause you was raised in the projects
Broke-ass finally got a hundred in your pocket
Now you on the mic, spittin' money's no object
What you say is bullcrap, if you wasn't wit' your crew
Or wasn't drunk off the brew, would you still pull gats?
You need to stop fronting or you headed for self-destruction
Yeah, today's topic, is self-destruction
I ain't talkin' 'bout the KRS-One discussion
I'm talkin' 'bout the one-too-many ignorant suckers
Lyin' on the mic to my sisters and brothers
Every time you listen to the radio
All you hear is nonsense, they never play the bomb shit
Everything that glitters ain't gold
And every gold record don't glitter, that's for damn sure
(Scratching Voices
"Y'all need to be cool as shit"
"Tryin' to teach you from the heart"
"Y'all rambling on, and ain't sayin' nothing"
"I'm busy in the mind"
"I'm a go invent, I think I'll elevate my mental"
(Interlude)
Yo, see cats got confused somewhere man (confused)
About what hip-hop was, you know what I'm sayin'
Or what hip-hop is, (it's business yo) you know it
It's all business
(its big money, know what I'm sayin' that's all these cats about)
You know that's bullshit, right? That's nigga talk, nigga talk
But if you want to make money yo, I got it broke down though
I got it broke down, (break it down yo)
You got hip-hop, then you got hip-pop
Hip-pop? (hip-pop)
Alright, (but a lot of cats want pop)
Yes, (know what I'm sayin')
It used to be real hip
You got the top forty version of hip-hop
I still got something else, something else that I wanna get off my chest
What? (know what I'm sayin'?)
(Verse 4)
How many cats you know
Speak the ill-legit rhyme after rhyme diligent
Eighty-five percent represent ignorant
Either you innocent or guilty
Some of my favorite emcees fell of
It damn near killed me
Lookin' at the kids that was true hip-pop
Nowadays them cats don't even do hip-hop
Rap got 'em brainwashed, with cats that don't last
And five minutes of fame, that's when it's a shame
Seein' real emcees tryin' to imitate rappers
If you ask me, they goin' out ass-backwards
Trading in respect to push a fat Lex'
Puff rhymin' on the remix, what's next?
It hurts so bad, I wanna smack 'em
My favorite crew members break up
Turn around and join whack ones
This is dedicated to you hip-hop hypocrites
Droppin' whack songs, like you don't give a shit
I ain't got nothin' against nobody trying to make a decent living
It ain't the money that's the issue
Only if that's the reason why these cats ain't makin' decent music
That's when I got beef wit' you
And I'm a bring it to you like never
Go ahead, call me player-hater if it make you feel better
Try to jump my crew if you cats feel boggy
You need to wake up, and smell the damn coffee
Know what I'm sayin', these whack emcees...
|
I can't seem to find a lot of the other ones I wanna post on here. I suppose those 2 will have to do for now.
Asta!!
__________________
"I love music and it's my parents fault (closing statement)." - Me..quoting myself...from when I said that...On TFP..thats here...Tilted Forum Project 
It ain't goodbye, it's see ya later! I'll miss you guys!  - Asta!!
|