Canibus - The Type That lyrics

(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 //