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(Chorus x2: Canibus) |
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Hip Hop, do that body rock |
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Jam on it, Keep smoking |
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Hip Hop do, that body rock |
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I been gone for a while, but I'm still in style |
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Hah |
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(Canibus) |
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Yeah, c'mon now, get on down |
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Can-I-Bus, back with the Hip Hop sound |
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Twenty-years deep in this culture, compulsive |
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Every day, this was the dream that I woke with |
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Outside chilling, B-Boy's spinning |
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Pretending not to notice the supreme-choice women |
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I rep the Rude Boy Natty Dread posse |
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And the dirty balhead Zombie's behind me |
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Turn the lights up, pick the mic up |
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Get them hyped up, looking for the right cut |
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I don't like much, but I love to bust |
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At the crowd 'cause they love the rush |
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The markings on my arm was drawn |
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They symbolize the art of Hip Hop in it's rawest form |
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We can take it to the stage like we going to war |
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Low crawling through the crowd we perform on tour |
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Come correct with the rhyme, they remember the flow |
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I was 'Gone 'Til November', six December's ago |
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So |
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(Chorus x2) |
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(Canibus) |
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Every day is a piece of eternity that we control |
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That's why Rap music feeds the soul |
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DJ drop needle, I shock people |
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There's a mic doc in the house and he's not legal |
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Canibus just entered the building y'all |
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If you looking for the illest star, feel me y'all |
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I get a call, slide through Diego |
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Hit the Bay off, with something less than a day old |
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Here's a hot one for you to hold |
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The super-emcee SuperBowl, winner takes all |
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The 'Fahrenheit 9/11' rhyme weapon |
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The underground give me credit when I'm sound checking |
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I feel like it's now or never |
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The rhymes stay clever when the wisdom-teeth grind together |
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Go to sleep, I can't go to sleep unless I write something |
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Then stay awake, I can't stay awake unless I recite something |
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I can't recite something without tight substance |
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When I'm busting, I leave motherfucking mics busted |
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(chorus) 2X |
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*20 seconds of beat playin* |
