Lyrics
Pick up to six lines to make a card.
Intro
It's Hot 97, blazin' hip-hop and R&B
You know how we do it, man
It's nothing, it's nothing, nah mean?
Got my man Canibus in the house
Yeah, uh, uh, NYC, shout out to the whole New York City, yo, that album, "2000 B.C." drops tomorrow, you know what I'm sayin'? It's berserk
Neck snapping beats, killer choruses, the rhymes is disgusting, believe that, yo
You hear me, it's in stores tomorrow
It's called "2000 B.C.", it's Canibus, you know what I mean?
Big shout to my man, Busta Rhymes on the check-in
Yo, his new video, have you seen that new video?
Oh, Busta's joint
I been on a pro—i just got off the promo tour, man, so I ain't get a chance to—you know, we been on that van (Yeah) for like a month, man
It's coming on MTV right now
I seen Busta's five-by-nine cutout though in the stores, I seen it, you know what?
Him and Lil' Kim, they both had these cutouts, man, like, you know (That's hot), five foot cutouts, man, cardboard cutouts
I need my cardboard cutouts, man
(Hollar, hollar, hollar)
My man, Can 'bout to dig a freestyle, kid, you hear me?
It's Hot 97 Monday night mixtape
Get your tapes ready, boys, it's about to go down
(Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey)
Yeah, uh, check it out, y'all
NYC, listen to the world's illest MC about to bless y'all
Capital CU—CLUE
Check it out, y'all, yo, yo, check it, yo, yo, yo, yo
Verse
I cut through your epidermal layers with verbal lasers
Sharper than razors on the feet of Olympic ice skaters
Carvin' figure eights in the pavement
Judges'll smile with amazement 'til they facial muscles start achin'
The most dedicated hip-hop lyrical patron
Bustin' on Hot97's frequency modulation
Make sure your Monday Night Mixtapes is tapin'
Cluemanatti controls the airwaves like Freemasons
Thought I couldn't freestyle? You must be freebasin'
After this album, tell Universal I'm a free agent
I might move to Japan and marry me a Asian
Or move back to Jamaica and start DJin'
Predaminam one, predaminam two, predaminam three
Or I might just stay in New York and murder MCs
I intertwine with rhymes like:
Two girls livin' together, havin' they menstrual cycles at the same time like
I kick a rhyme that'll melt the Earth
Then ask you in the afterlife if you felt the verse
Sippin' on sizzurp, tryna stay alert, belch and burp
I know I'm the illest, I don't know if it helps or hurts
Nobody could copy me, I got a doctor's degree in botany
That's why I can grow my marijuana properly
Listen to my voice New York, listen deeply
You are getting sleepy
On July 18th you're gonna get up, go to the record store
And you're gonna buy "2000 B.C."
Listen to my voice, please, listen deeply
You are getting sleepy
On July 18th you're gonna get up, go to the record store
And you're gonna buy "2000 B.C."
I breathe in real deep, through the nostrils
Charge my lungs like a CO2 cartridge
Soon as the air is released the rhyme launches
Hit you like a Shoemaker–Levy 9 comet, what!?
Canibus'll bust your ass
Strike a match against your mustache, light my spliff and laugh
Take two tokes and pass
Wait 'til my lyrics reach critical mass, then whip the G.O.A.T.'s ass
I speak with the silent syntax of insects
Human ears are unequipped to hear my E.L.F
Extremely low frequencies that frequently flow
Type my rhymes out in morse code with pinky toes
Bury your body underneath stones where algae grows
Underneath oak trees guarded by thirteen flows
Can-I-Bus'll bust a flow, bustbmy load
Bust all over your radio, I'll bust down your throat
I'll bust like Busta-Bus be bustin' for Flipmode
And keep bustin' 'til you can't see 'cause of the gunsmoke
Like inactive volcanoes, mad 'cause they ain't blow
Searchin' for that pot of gold under the rainbow
Or searchin' for that big pot of platinum
Down at the bottom of the North Atlantic with the Titanic captain
I been rappin' since rap happened
My passion goes way beyond drinkin' Don P out of crystal glasses
Yo, yo, check it, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
So every gig is Sunday, Monday, through Friday
We could battle in five o'clock traffic on West Side highway
If they could see it live, why pay?
I'll slay you in broad day, so stop bein' cocky and try me
I'll be downstairs in Hot 97's lobby
In about five minutes if you think you can out-rhyme me
To the "Ghetto Supastar"that plays the guitar
And got lucky off Salaam Remi's track "Fu-Gee-La"
Trust me, nigga, every dog has his day
I'll chop off your dreads and auction 'em on ebay
So, yo, forget the he say-she say
Rumors are cliché, I'm just here to talk about my release date
July 18th, I got to be honest
12 o'clock in the morning, you should be standing in line for it
"2000 B.C." coming out tomorrow
My album is ill, you could ask Clue or Duro
Ask anybody you see in the five boroughs
Even niggas that bootleg said my shit is thorough
Listen: It's not like I'm wack, it's not like I can't rap
It's not like I'm not Black, so cop that
Believe that, you just witnessed the sickest MC rap
A hundred bars no feedback, peace, black
Outro
*laughing*
That's crazy right there
Don't get stupid, you heard it here first
If you wanna talk to Canibus it's....
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