Canibus - Yale University Freestyle lyrics

It's the phantom of the opera, the Dracula, Caligula unpopular Melt your ocular with rocket-thrust processors I dare you to touch the touch-screen monitors without proper gloves Melt the skin off your fingers 'till they look like rounded nubs As retarded as Forrest Gump You're nothing but a two-pump chump drunk punk with a puss filled prostate lump You think that skunk stunk You should have smelled that decomposing c*nt that sick gruesome grunt dumped in my trunk I'm a hunter that's ready to discontinue the hunt But I'm gonna keep ripping you scum 'till the millennium's done You couldn't pa** if you was ga**ed out of your a** I'll battle you in front of Sterling Library after cla** You get slumped, spending your tuition on blunts, you're a dunce You get rejected trying to join Mic-Club Feces hit the fan from the front Liquid liters of diarrhea, not mud No, it's beet juice not blood Truncate your trunk Decapitate your face with a gun Assa**in with your tongue Remove seven-eighths of your lung Donate it to monks with jumpsuits, zip down in the front For easy access when they get crunk with the nuns As peaceful as Evel Knievel using a dirty h**ne needle After a four hundred and eighty foot jump Perform verbal acrobatic magic with crash-proof tactics Stuntmen say the F word more than once Put you on point P.R.T your funky joint With proof like nineteen thirty three double eagle coins 'Bring The Noise' like enemies out in public You know you love it A genie bottle covered with porcupine follicles try and rub it Blood drips 'till the tub's flooded My dead enemies lay there gutted 'till year two thousand and forty something In the meantime, everybody's outside running Cos the puppet master behind the curtain is coming With some hydrochloric stuffed in the luggage A Final Call newspaper under his arm saying, "Peace my brothers" Resonances from my vocal tracks smothers the others I'll bring sparks to any Bubba, make him guzzle pig blubber Do a "Ninja Man" cover, tell you to s** your mother If I wanted to get at you I'd just infect your lover Your girl's an exceptionally good s**er She ain't got no tan, I'll tap that a** 'till it changes color Get technical with decibels that are connected to you The audible is too incredible to sell them to you I'd rather tuck you in at night and tell them to you I introduce you to new words and spell them for you Dropping j**els with unpunctuatingly possible s**igonical chronicles Burn you up faster than two hundred pounds of fuel In helicopters doing loops out in Kabul Compared to me you're a out-turn, a penniless fool I'll take you to school expose you to the negative news Take you out for drinks put some sedatives in your booze If you manage to win I'll k** you, so it's better you lose But I'll set it up so you win and celebrate it with you I'll break the truth to you at a quarter to five Look you square in the eye And tell you that there's nowhere for you to hide Triangulate your flow to wherever you rhyme Quintangulate your fibers one thread at a time Bare this in mind, look a little deeper you'll find Line for line, Canibus is the Red Giant of rhymes Mic-Club: The Curriculum, November nineteenth B-Y-O-B-V, Bring your own bottle of Visine Yale University, community broadcast emergency Kublai Khan proofread this verse for me T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound transcribed it just out of courtesy Then I gave them the bird cause they looked like nerds to me Micclub.net where real emcees perform lyrical surgery With Pentium circuitry Canibus, Yale University The best way to encourage me is to keep discouraging me They keep trying to front on me, they don't want none of me Float like a bu*terfly, sting like a bumblebee No seeds yet, so you're lucky there's only one of me Rip the Jacker's skullduggery on a summer's eve The real Hip-Hop community got love for me That's why I give the love back Mic-Club: The Curriculum, a thousand bars, who could touch that