Kyros - Curriculum 101 lyrics

[Intro: movie sample] Claims are being made That for me go far beyond the available evidence In fact in many cases are contradicted by the evidence And that bothers me [Canibus] Forensic psychologist Samuel Dubios explains "You'll probably never understand Germaine" Incoherent speeches, puzzles in pieces The sub-chemical deepness of his glandular excretions Realms of Heaven and Hell Glowing angelic gel spliced with bovine leukaemia cells Demons in Hell they call to me, I scream, "What can you offer me?" They reply, "Techno-Sorcery" They tell me the meek will never inherit the world Cause they're weak standing on two twelve inch feet I dream quasi-Draconian dreams when I sleep Peyote leaves mixed with the blood of a priest In a room where the ceiling leaks of crimson grease Where the living eats the dead and the dead reek Rock bottom transforms human beings to beasts Why the f** you think we've got canine teeth? It's the optical stimuli of watching men cry I hope I've got time to repent before I die Bury me at the beach if the sea is out of reach Cause when I speak what's fluid becomes concrete Like a falcon up in the sky, ten thousand feet Looking down at you b**hes looking at me Phase shifting at forty-five degrees I'm too crooked to see, I memorize the books that I read s**ing from the breast of knowledge constantly weaning Unbeseemingly a genius without meaning Try to visualize what Harry Houdini was feeling Handcuffed underwater without breathing Near d**h on a fatal quest for air But why should anyone care? He put himself there His career was based on facing his fears To take destiny from the hand of the man upstairs He didn't mind the cold stares he got from his peers They couldn't tell him where he was going or how to get there It's better to be prepared and fail Than to be scared and unsure of yourself and still get k**ed Don't rhyme like I used to but I still got sk**s More than a couple confirmed k**s under the belt Hunting emcees like hunting elk Camouflaged in the dense brush for stealth, determined as Hell I don't do this for anybody except myself Stuff a motherf**er like a trophy on my shelf f** the promo n***a I do this for dolo Flow from the first hour to twenty-four-oh-oh Round the clock as long as I've got a cup of cocoa But I'll be a no-show if my girl cries, "Don't go!" And she gives me blow more than two times in a row I'd rather chill with her than k** you with a rhyme that I wrote Count how many mics I smoke minus the G.O.A.T 'Bus is dope, my battling average is higher than most When I'm on the mic I release fire from throat If you disagree please do it quietly folks Anybody better than Bis must be a hoax Black man? No! What about the 'Great White Hope?' What? Man you must be sniffing great white coke Don't you know that's like Gary Coleman fighting the Hulk? Still not even quite that close, a great white Biting your rubber dingy boat 50 miles out from the coast What the f** is the Mathers with you? I'll beat you black and blue then I'll get a tat of you too Better yet I'll put a tattoo of me on you A ten by ten 'C' logo, neon blue The most theatrical MC battle of all time I rip jackers like you, you know my call sign k**er cobras that hover over Jehovah In motorized auto-giros with sycamore rotors Hydrogen-peroxide gaseous vapors Technically these words shouldn't even rhyme off paper In theory, for every soul that can hear me, I'ma blaze them In practical practice my style's even greater Can't you see what I'm spitting? Can't you hear the difference? Compared to me you're energetically inefficient You need ten times the enzymes to process one of my rhymes You've got to rewind every one of my lines Do you know how to paraphrase? Do you even understand what the narrator is tryna say? The climax explodes, nobody can foreshadow my flow Figuratively the language is too dope Academic journals print my lyrical quotes They show parallelism in all the albums I wrote On any track I come off strong automatically Whether I write in an active or pa**ive capacity Poetry that I spit is synonymous to a glyph Written on tablets of clay mortar mix Superb, truly superb! an*lyze the words It's like observing the birds fly above the Earth The Eye of Horus, the miniature torii within a giant torus With singularity on the chorus, I still sound enormous Borderline insanity trying to break through humanity's border With a new curriculum every quarter I'm the porter to the portal of the Secret Mic-Club Order Baptize you with Jamaican white rum and water If you've got a hundred bars then I know you're a warrior I'll be the one who awards you and pins the medal on you Dedicate a song to you because now you're honorable You want a record deal? Explain the lyrical grand unified field so I can test your sk** Do it in front of the cla**, chart diagram it And write it in Latin not Spanish god damn it Step back so I can look at it (No puede entender las palabras que digo senior Williams?) Huh? What the f** is that wack sh**? You're clumsy and dumb like a hand with five thumbs Welcome to Mic Club: Curriculum 101