| 作词 : Pierre, Williams | |
| Yo, sittin on chrome, sittin on low pro 20 inch firestones | |
| Grippin the road with the wickedest flow, 'Bis is a pro | |
| I zigzag throughout sly loam | |
| Accelerate and decelerate in and out the cones | |
| Poisonous poems travel through walkman headphones | |
| Into your dome Osteoperosis your bones, | |
| Who's the nicest nigga you know in the year two triple-oh | |
| Spit turn to icicles in the mid air and slit your throat | |
| Drain your carcass dry rip out your heart bitch | |
| I write rhymes using your blood for my ink cartridges | |
| Paleoanthropologists, polish the bones | |
| of rapper artist after I dip in my hydrochloric waters | |
| Canibus, with the seams burstin, perfect | |
| Everyday the earth spins I write verses | |
| My soul purpose as a verbalist, is to make my words twist | |
| and connect like letters when they're in cursive | |
| Chorus: repeat 4X | |
| I'll pray on them, spray on them | |
| First nigga to violate I'll regulate without warning | |
| [Canibus] | |
| Yo, Yo, I'm faster than leopards running across the vast desert | |
| In twenty-two yards per second to catch me to daily delicatessen | |
| With thirty minutes to eat'em, forty minutes to digest 'em | |
| And fifty 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're running by, trip you up from behind | |
| My rhymes, confuse niggas like somebody try to gang-bang | |
| wearin a blue shirt and red pants, | |
| throwin up signs with their left hand | |
| Standin out on the corner of wetlands | |
| with a confederate flag for a headband | |
| God dam eggplants, niggas gettin me vexed man | |
| Cause I'm surrounded by garbage like Fred Sav | |
| and I can't seem to get away from it | |
| I dreamed that I stabbed Leviathan through the stomach, and ate from it | |
| In my past life I slayed hundreds, and 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 | |
| Why the art of emceein is steady dyin | |
| That nigga Canibus is still in his prime, bust a rhyme | |
| Chorus: repeat 4X | |
| I'll pray on them, spray on them | |
| First nigga to violate I'll regulate without warning | |
| [Canibus] | |
| Club Dodge, I wrecked that | |
| Limelight, cursed that | |
| Envy, I murdered that | |
| Club SoHo, never heard of that | |
| Wetlands, dried it up | |
| Cheaters, decided to club, fired up | |
| looking for a chicken to tie up | |
| Club New York, I heard it's hot there | |
| beats be rocking there | |
| Too many niggaz be getting stabbed and shot there | |
| Speed, I slowed it down | |
| The Tunnel, they hold it down | |
| Home of the underground, why they always close it down | |
| Century club, the hot shit | |
| House of Blues, I rocked it | |
| One twelve ATL, that's the Dirty South bomb shit | |
| Synagogue, yeah I be there | |
| Caribbean City, roll deep there | |
| Lyricist Lounge, they be some real emcees there | |
| there there {*fades out*} |
| zuo ci : Pierre, Williams | |
| Yo, sittin on chrome, sittin on low pro 20 inch firestones | |
| Grippin the road with the wickedest flow, ' Bis is a pro | |
| I zigzag throughout sly loam | |
| Accelerate and decelerate in and out the cones | |
| Poisonous poems travel through walkman headphones | |
| Into your dome Osteoperosis your bones, | |
| Who' s the nicest nigga you know in the year two tripleoh | |
| Spit turn to icicles in the mid air and slit your throat | |
| Drain your carcass dry rip out your heart bitch | |
| I write rhymes using your blood for my ink cartridges | |
| Paleoanthropologists, polish the bones | |
| of rapper artist after I dip in my hydrochloric waters | |
| Canibus, with the seams burstin, perfect | |
| Everyday the earth spins I write verses | |
| My soul purpose as a verbalist, is to make my words twist | |
| and connect like letters when they' re in cursive | |
| Chorus: repeat 4X | |
| I' ll pray on them, spray on them | |
| First nigga to violate I' ll regulate without warning | |
| Canibus | |
| Yo, Yo, I' m faster than leopards running across the vast desert | |
| In twentytwo yards per second to catch me to daily delicatessen | |
| With thirty minutes to eat' em, forty minutes to digest ' em | |
| And fifty 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' re running by, trip you up from behind | |
| My rhymes, confuse niggas like somebody try to gangbang | |
| wearin a blue shirt and red pants, | |
| throwin up signs with their left hand | |
| Standin out on the corner of wetlands | |
| with a confederate flag for a headband | |
| God dam eggplants, niggas gettin me vexed man | |
| Cause I' m surrounded by garbage like Fred Sav | |
| and I can' t seem to get away from it | |
| I dreamed that I stabbed Leviathan through the stomach, and ate from it | |
| In my past life I slayed hundreds, and 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 | |
| ninehundred 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 | |
| Why the art of emceein is steady dyin | |
| That nigga Canibus is still in his prime, bust a rhyme | |
| Chorus: repeat 4X | |
| I' ll pray on them, spray on them | |
| First nigga to violate I' ll regulate without warning | |
| Canibus | |
| Club Dodge, I wrecked that | |
| Limelight, cursed that | |
| Envy, I murdered that | |
| Club SoHo, never heard of that | |
| Wetlands, dried it up | |
| Cheaters, decided to club, fired up | |
| looking for a chicken to tie up | |
| Club New York, I heard it' s hot there | |
| beats be rocking there | |
| Too many niggaz be getting stabbed and shot there | |
| Speed, I slowed it down | |
| The Tunnel, they hold it down | |
| Home of the underground, why they always close it down | |
| Century club, the hot shit | |
| House of Blues, I rocked it | |
| One twelve ATL, that' s the Dirty South bomb shit | |
| Synagogue, yeah I be there | |
| Caribbean City, roll deep there | |
| Lyricist Lounge, they be some real emcees there | |
| there there fades out |
| zuò cí : Pierre, Williams | |
| Yo, sittin on chrome, sittin on low pro 20 inch firestones | |
| Grippin the road with the wickedest flow, ' Bis is a pro | |
| I zigzag throughout sly loam | |
| Accelerate and decelerate in and out the cones | |
| Poisonous poems travel through walkman headphones | |
| Into your dome Osteoperosis your bones, | |
| Who' s the nicest nigga you know in the year two tripleoh | |
| Spit turn to icicles in the mid air and slit your throat | |
| Drain your carcass dry rip out your heart bitch | |
| I write rhymes using your blood for my ink cartridges | |
| Paleoanthropologists, polish the bones | |
| of rapper artist after I dip in my hydrochloric waters | |
| Canibus, with the seams burstin, perfect | |
| Everyday the earth spins I write verses | |
| My soul purpose as a verbalist, is to make my words twist | |
| and connect like letters when they' re in cursive | |
| Chorus: repeat 4X | |
| I' ll pray on them, spray on them | |
| First nigga to violate I' ll regulate without warning | |
| Canibus | |
| Yo, Yo, I' m faster than leopards running across the vast desert | |
| In twentytwo yards per second to catch me to daily delicatessen | |
| With thirty minutes to eat' em, forty minutes to digest ' em | |
| And fifty 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' re running by, trip you up from behind | |
| My rhymes, confuse niggas like somebody try to gangbang | |
| wearin a blue shirt and red pants, | |
| throwin up signs with their left hand | |
| Standin out on the corner of wetlands | |
| with a confederate flag for a headband | |
| God dam eggplants, niggas gettin me vexed man | |
| Cause I' m surrounded by garbage like Fred Sav | |
| and I can' t seem to get away from it | |
| I dreamed that I stabbed Leviathan through the stomach, and ate from it | |
| In my past life I slayed hundreds, and 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 | |
| ninehundred 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 | |
| Why the art of emceein is steady dyin | |
| That nigga Canibus is still in his prime, bust a rhyme | |
| Chorus: repeat 4X | |
| I' ll pray on them, spray on them | |
| First nigga to violate I' ll regulate without warning | |
| Canibus | |
| Club Dodge, I wrecked that | |
| Limelight, cursed that | |
| Envy, I murdered that | |
| Club SoHo, never heard of that | |
| Wetlands, dried it up | |
| Cheaters, decided to club, fired up | |
| looking for a chicken to tie up | |
| Club New York, I heard it' s hot there | |
| beats be rocking there | |
| Too many niggaz be getting stabbed and shot there | |
| Speed, I slowed it down | |
| The Tunnel, they hold it down | |
| Home of the underground, why they always close it down | |
| Century club, the hot shit | |
| House of Blues, I rocked it | |
| One twelve ATL, that' s the Dirty South bomb shit | |
| Synagogue, yeah I be there | |
| Caribbean City, roll deep there | |
| Lyricist Lounge, they be some real emcees there | |
| there there fades out |
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