[Canibus]
Yo, yo
I wreck that shit, mic check that shit
Canibus, n***a, he the best that spit
Step on stage, and pace left or right
Like a lion, ready to bite, you dying tonight
More lines to your forehead than Brian McKnight
A thousand watt voice box, I’ma fry them tonight
I be shitting on sight, meticulous with the mic
It’s a mic, but I rip it like a palm in the knife
Lyricist that don’t lounge, break a n***a down
Says you iced out? You can keep the swelling down
Lift you off the ground with choke-hold ‘till your bitch screams
“Let him down, he’s a Micclub member now”
Beat you with my brow, force you to speak loud
Like, “motha fuckas, give me fifty bars right now”
I’m thе king of the pack, bringing it back
Tell the queen of thе bride, “come sit on my lap”

[Canibus]
You civilian maggots ain’t ready for the illest rappers
Allied metaphors of the joint access
COM putative compliance of the rhyme science
Protected by the Micclub security advisors

[Canibus]
Too violent to tame, wolf bane pumps through my veins
Put emcees to shame, the lyrical linguist
Spitting colloquial English, like “Who art thou?”
Bow to the ten inch dick, suckith it