(Canibus)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
You know it's all terrific
You know it's
(Canibus)
Yo
I just want to see you pump yo fist
I don't want to hear ya'll talk no sh**
I just want to get on stage and show the gift
Show the gift
(Canibus)
I'm the type of n***a that'll click-click ride with ya
The type of n***a that'll smoke that lah with ya
The type of n***a that'll bust that nine at ya
Spit that line at ya, kick that fire at ya
(Canibus)
Yo,
Ayo
What up god? No luck? Aww
You can't sell crack on the block no more
Cause I pulled up, parked, rolled up, sparked
Dogs bark. Oh sh**! Narcs!
I Jackie Chan up the wall and sit in the dark
Or go running for a jog while I spit in the park
My jigsaw still hard, the metaphors remain sharp
Give you sharp pains through your brain if you slang-box
Me and you in the sandbox with our hands locked
Get the same sh** your man with the broken hand got
I bang Glock, I've been hot
co*k bang Mi Ling from Bangkok for ten baht
My broad with the fat a** can sit up front
Your broad that look like trash can sit in the trunk
I'ma f** 'til I break off chunks
Break off a big chunk of skunk and take off with a blunt
Hit the studio, sometimes I work all day
Still change my voice-box oil every 3K
Step to the stage, throw a sign to the Deejay
Everybody screaming out, "Do what the weed say!"
(Canibus)
I'm the type of n***a that'll click-click ride with ya
The type of n***a that'll smoke that lah with ya
The type of n***a that'll bust that nine at ya
Spit that line at ya, kick that fire at ya
The type of n***a that'll set up shop with ya
The type of n***a that'll pace the block with ya
The type of n***a that'll pa** the Glock to ya
Stash the rock for ya, n***a I got ya
(Canibus)
This is!
A hip-hop invasion
My stage concentration got me 'bout to blaze it when the first wave hit
I wanna' see 'em pump they hands like this
Like they never heard a jam like this
The world never had to share a mic Bis
How many cyphers I done banged like this?
No hype-man just a hand-mic kit
I approach the stage, by motorcade
Like in the olden days, with my own deejay
Smarty Jones on the microphone: They know I'ma race
The first heat transfer, probably blow up the place
When I win I start cussin', throw the dough in your face
You could keep it, I could get more, I know what it takes
In the parking lot drinkin' on drank
She view the videos, got me thinkin' that I'm holdin' up the wrong banks
No offense, I pull up to star studded events
In an old bucket with tints, with some of my friends
When I say friends I mean a couple buddies of mine
The Glock-nine and the double-action forty-five
Bend your mental
From the beginning to the end is connected to the beginning like infinity symbols
I keep it simple, don't want to offend you
Cause n***az don't understand what they ain't into
Misunderstanding is still a form of understanding
But ya'll n***az don't hear me though
(Canibus)
I'm the type of n***a that'll click-click ride with ya
The type of n***a that'll smoke that lah with ya
The type of n***a that'll bust that nine at ya
Spit that line at ya, kick that fire at ya
The type of n***a that'll set up shop with ya
The type of n***a that'll pace the block with ya
The type of n***a that'll pa** the Glock to ya
Stash the rock for ya, n***a I got ya //