[Canibus] Yo, the fact that I'm down wit Def Squad's hard to determine Till you see me hoppin out the Coupe wit E Sermon Or hoppin out the Keith Murray Suburban Or hoppin out the Lex Land wit Redman, wildin and cursin My thought process is mysterious like the Lochness My furious mindset is complex Killin shit like a carniverous millitant prehistoric monster Comin to stomp all over you hip-hop conference Landed in an Unidentified Flying Object Turn you into an unidentified frying carcus The smell of raw flesh make you nauseous Acidest arsonist, burnin your bones to carbon and phosphorus My metaphors sting like after haircuts when The alcohol is applied to the raw skin So whoever wanna battle get blasted Get your teeth enamel shattered, shitted on like Pampers You had a bad bitch, I left the back twist I stuck my dick in everything from asshole to the nasal passage Dug her out all day, then changed my sperm DNA Now she got nobody to blame I been spittin raw, what the fuck you think I'm livin for Throw me in jail, I'll do a prison tour For wannabe hard niggaz, insecure niggaz Wit they heads to big for they neck to support niggaz Three in the Squad plus me equal four members An extra addition for any special force mission Man listen
[Erick Sermon] Ain't these niggaz on some shit Keith Murray, Canibus ain't no stoppin it uhh
[Keith Murray] Let me draw a brief description of what happened I was rappin, niggaz got the scrappin, guns got the clappin Three-fifty-seven degrees I was separated Have bullets deflected metal, bodies decapitated Gush! a nigga got struck as I look I caught the next guy runnin by wit the metal hook Blew his back open, blood gushed on my face A bitch fainted cuz she seen I enjoyed the taste The case is that I split your melon And feed it to the jigga-boos wit fried chicken wings I'm wildin for Long Island, I turned and took Charles Ferguson And open fire on any trains now You may never know who's in your shadow You punk ass niggaz just best stay shallow And hollow, if you wanna live to see tomorrow Cuz ain't no sun comin out tomorrow Yo, I might do something y'all niggaz might regret like Blast you in your face and disregard your vest I'm pissin and dissin off of recognition and niggaz to listen Just to let you pussies know how I'm livin Cuz I Return like the Jedi, wit my dead eye Leave niggaz to die, peace to niggaz up in Bed-Stuy Oh-ah, this that type of shit that make them niggaz wanna wet it Word up, got me ready to set it
[Deja Vu] Seems I steps wit aggression To any bitch who think they nice in this profession What? what you think your wrecking? I break your stlye down to little fragments The pain is permanent, so spare yourself the embarassment Buck-fifty 'cross the face Followed by knife wounds to the chest for you attempt to retaliate I noticed all you bitches flows is based around clothes But Deja Vu got something for you stankin hoes Studio gangsta bitches I diminish ideas of bringin beef Before the thought even finishes I wanna see red, blood from a chicken head 'For I wild the fuck out like the Grateful Dead This wild style must run in my genes Because my sister's in the county And my brother just came home from Green I strike like the black widow, through the underground radio
Compositores: Erick S. Sermon (e Double e), Keith Omar Murray, Germaine Williams (Canibus), Enio Morricone, Deja Everett ECAD: Obra #36977477