(Canibus) Yo I think fast, switch fast, quick fast, quick as Immigrants say, ‘No habla ingles', at border-patrol fences Messing with Canibus is senseless Divide my senses by six and you'll end up with triple sixes And triple the digits mean triple the spirits My light body to the third power will triple my lyrics I'm triple the threat, I'm triple my physical flesh I'm telling you, put your money on me then triple your bet ‘Cause I won't be satisfied ‘til I'm set ‘Till I got a triplex out in Tribeca with the skyline effect Rhyming is the nine-to-five that I manipulate best Eight hours of writing and memorizing a man*script Called "The Biography of Canibus" Subtitled ‘The Ultimate Guide for Teaching Modern Man How to Spit' How to tongue twist, how to enunciate certain sh** How to control your breath, how to make your syllables spit You n***as ain't listen to ‘Bis, I k** ‘em with sh** I'm wicked with this, I should be selling tickets to this Paparazzi should probably be taking pictures of this My fans in the street with signs trying to picket for this Saying, "We want ‘Bis! We want ‘Bis! We want the rapper with the illest lyrics!" My dedication and my commitment's beginning-less I can go four quarters or nine innings for this Go twelve rounds, play two days of cricket for this Lead crusades across Europe like the Christians for this The notion I'm dedicated is an understatement My rhymes are out of this world like the Russian space-station Sneak-attack rappers, grab them and slash them Chop their heads off with claws sharper than velociraptors Hunt them like Jura**ic Park actors But spare Samuel Jackson's life ‘cause he was the only black one Action packed like Shaft, the black a**a**in Blasting the .753 backwards Magnum Follow me down the road to Damascus Do not follow me these madmen, popping ecstasy pills like aspirin I and I come fe manifest the most high Drink a gallon of cyanide and still can not die n***as want to lock the ‘Chronicles of Canibus' away forever And put my book of rhymes through a shredder Never, I'm way too clever the way I manoeuvre Beat your a** like Lennox Lewis did to David Tua In front of a hundred-million pay-per-viewers your career is ruined Your face will be swollen like the Benihana Buddha Bring it to ya', prove you're a loser Beyond the length of this rhyme you have no future Pounce upon you like a puma or some wild cougars In the jungle with my adrenaline juices flowing through them I'mma reprogram everything that you're doing Hypnotize the audience you perform in front of to start booing You're stupid, you and your whole crew are extremely foolish I can't cipher with you ‘cause your breath is too putrid Put your mic down and step away from it Shut your mother f**ing mouth and don't say nothing You have the right to remain silent Sentenced to life on Rikers Island for terrible freestyling Yo, yo I heard a rumour English women make love the best Is that true? ‘Cause I ain't had no justice yet A lot of clowns keep arguing on who the best is Bite the style but can't digest it ‘Til they get karate kicked in the mouth and their teeth get ejected Told you to ‘Watch Who U Beef Wit' on the last record Platinum teeth? I sell them for a thousand pounds apiece You buy one back and you get one free Put it down in the east, put it down in the west Put it down on paper, put the paper down on the desk In the studio is where I put it down to the test It's nothing but skull-crushing pressure down at them depths Throw a rough mix down, download it to disk Give a copy to everybody that's down with Bis Since ninety-six, the Dogg Pound remix First time anybody put me down to spit It's like Pak-Man don't stop ‘Til I hear my voice banging up and down the block In a Magnavox with a hundred watts Creating ripples in the water like aquanauts Breathing through their oxygen-box I belong on top of the pops not on the bottom with rocks I mean, honest to God, I'm shocked, I thought the album was hot I guess you can't write an infinite rhyme with a finite mind That's why rhymes like mine mystify mankind A lot of rappers are ahead of their time But when it comes to rhymes like mine the word ‘time' doesn't apply You see, rhyming is the art The microphone is the paintbrush responsible for getting the point across The canvas is the street Where the master of the ceremony paints the picture for everybody to see Nobody could rhyme this fluent Nobody ever did what I'm doing Nobody ever spit what I'm spewing I'm the illest alive and I'mma prove it Plus I've got to show the people that I've got mad love for rap music I bury emcees with rosary beads A picture of their wife and their seeds and a picture of me I'm as graceful as the left hand of Rembrandt Put some instrumentals on and ask my pen to dance I'm such a gentleman Pull out chairs, open doors, never offend my fans Unless they offend me and I lose my temper, man