Canibus - Curriculum 101 Lyrics
[Intro: movie sample]Claims are being madeThat for me go far beyond the available evidenceIn fact in many cases are contradicted by the evidenceAnd that bothers me[Canibus]Forensic psychologists, Samuel with the bridesExplains you probably never understand JermaineIncoherent speaches, puzzles and piecesThe sub-chemical deepness, suck his clan 'til they screechesRealms of heaven and hellFlowing angelic gell strikes with voron leukaemia cellsDemons in hell, they call to me, I scream "what can you offer me?"They reply "tecnosaucery"They tell me the meek will never inherit the worldCuz they weak standin' on two 12 inch feetI dream Quashee Canonian dreams when I sleepPeyote leads to snakes with a blood of a priestIn the room where the ceiling leaks and crimps in greaseWhere the living eats the dead and the dead reekRockbottom transforms human beings to beastWhy the ***** you think we got canine teeth?It's the optical stimuli of watching men cryI hope I've got time to repent before I dieBattle me at the beach if the sea is out of reachCuz when I speak what's fluid becomes concreteLike a falcon up in the sky, 10 thousand feetLookin' down at you *****es lookin' at meFame shift into 45 degrees, I'm too crooked to seeI memorise the books that I readSuckin' from the breast of knowledge, constantly weaningUnforseeningly a genuis without meaningTry to visualise what happy Houdini was feelingHandcuffed under water without breathingNear death on a fatal quest for airBut why should anyone care? He put himself thereHis career was based on facing the staresTo take destiny from the hand of the man upstairsHe didn't mind the cold stares he got from his peersThey couldn't tell him where he was goin' or how to get thereIt's better to be prepared and fail than be scaredand unsure of yourself and still get killedDon't rhyme like I used but I've still got skillsMore than a couple confirmed kills under the beltHuntin' MCs like huntin' ElkCamouflaged in the dense bust of stealth determined his healthI don't do this to anybody except myselfStuck with mother*****ers like the trophy on my shelf***** the promo, nigga I do this for doloFlow from the first album, the 24-0-0Round the clock launce, I got a cup of cocoWhen I be a no show with my girl fives don't goAnd she give me blow more than 2 times on the rowAnd I'd rather chill with her than kill you with a rhyme that I wroteCount how many mics that I smoke minus the goldBust dope, my battlin' average higher than mostWhen I'm on the mic I release fire from throatIf you disagree please do it quietly folksAnybody better than Bis must be a hoaxBlack man NO, what about the great white ho?What? Man you must be sniffin' the great white cokeDon't you that's like Gary Comb, I'm fightin' a hulkStill not even quite that closeA great mic fight in ya rubber dingi boat 50 miles out from the coastWhat the ***** is the maddness with youI beat you black and blue, then I give the tablet the trueBetter yet I put a tattoo of me on youA 10 by 10 ceelo go neon blueThe most theatrical MC battle of all timeI rip jackers like you, you know my call signKill a cobra, stick hooker over behovin'Motorise auto gyros with sycamore rotorsHydrogen peroxide, gaseous vaporsTechnically these words shouldn't even rhyme off paperIn theory, for every soul that can hear me I'ma blaze themIn practical practice my style's even greaterCan't you see what I'm spittin'? Can't you here the difference?Compared to me you're energetically inefficientYou need ten times the enzymes to process one of my rhymesYou got to rewind every one of my linesDo you know how to paraphrase?Do you even understand what the narrator's tryna say?The climax explodes, nobody can force out of my flowFigurably the language is too dopeAcademic journals print my lyrical quotesThey show parallelism in all the albums I wroteOn any track I come off strong automaticallyWhether I write interactive or pass the capacityPoetry that I spit is autonomous to cliffwritten on tablets of clay mortar mix, superbTruly superb, analyse the wordsIt's like I'm jerkin ya birds fly above the earthThe Eye of Horus, the miniature tour ride within the giant touristWith singularity on the chorus I still sound enourmousBorderline, insanity tryna break you through humanities borderWith a new curriculm every quarterI'm the pawn of the pawner with the secret mic world orderBaptise you with Jamaican White Rum and waterIf you got a hundred bars then I know you a warriorI'll be the one that award ya, pinch the medal on youDedicate a song to you, cuz not in autobleYou want a record dealExplain the lyrical grande unified field so I can test ya skillDo it in front of the class, chart diagram it and write it in latinNot spanish god dammit, step back so I can look at it"da dad dad ada dada", ah what the ***** is that wack shit?Crumpsy and dumb like a hand with five thumbsWork for the Mic Club, Curriculum 101
