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[Intro: Diabolic]
Yo, get the fuck back!
You got a liar and a thief,
Combined with a beast from the eastâ¦
What the fuck you thinks gonnaâ happen?
Canibus! Let emâ Know!
[Hook (Canibus & Diabolic) x4]
Canibus and Diabolic get busy when we rhyminâ,
Thatâs what we got in common,
[Verse 1: Canibus]
Yo, yo, yo, yo,
I know how far this could go,
But Iâm not willinâ to go far, as long as you know,
Iâd rather dump you off of the speed-boat,
Your trench coat; float, while you bleed; slow,
You already know!
I check my P.O. Box with a robot,
I got a ammo can in the corner full of old glocks,
Aight breathe⦠adjust to the beat,
Adjust to the speed of Canibus the MC,
The library of binary, words I rhyme surprise many,
But few realize, if any,
You navigate through a constellation of bars,
If it does not madden, you will be a god,
If it does not sadden, then you will be odd,
But they are on their way to capture you so be on your guard,
The world I live in, is different from the world you been in,
But I stay committed and still spit it,
The microphone is psychotic object,
Those who donât spit hot shit will get shocked and drop it,
Iâll be there in the morning to collect your belongings,
If I have to knock more than once; youâll be sorry,
The door sign reads: enter or die,
Thatâs when I wrote the hundred thousand bar rhyme,
So ask Canibus, he ainât understanding this,
Cozâ ninety nine percent of his fans ainât shit,
And ninety nine percent of his fans didnât think,
That ninety nine percent of the planet canât spit,
But Diabolic âbout to show you how we handle this,
Diabolic and Canibus, sample thisâ¦
[Hook (Canibus & Diabolic) x4]
[Verse 2: Diabolic]
Ladies rock your body, while âbolic cocks a shottie,
And pops these prima donnas posing for the paparazzi,
If not Iâll prolly hop inside a stolen Maserati,
Goinâ kamikaze like a pilot sent from Nagasaki,
Thatâs why doctors got me on some anti-psychotics,
My logicâs if I die, âbolics sales sky-rocket,
This high wattage made corpses rise from pine boxes,
With the fire in their eye sockets like they Cyclopsâs,
By god this man lost his damn mind, andâ¦
Buried his head in the sand to plant some landmines
I worry the feds had planned to scan our land lines,
Instead mankind embrace fags who canât rhyme
So for the last time I refuse to rap, itâs worthless,
Till I land a better deal than the Louisiana Purchase,
My purpose is to scratch the surface till a crack emerges,
Afterwards its stuffinâ bitches like a taxidermist,
And Iâm glad my sperm is drippinâ through your bitches panties,
Till she barefoot and pregnant sifting through my kitchen pantry,
My daughters nine, dadâs living like a vigilante,
Kiss the family, huntinâ pedophiles trickinâ kids with candy,
In other words, those who dare touch what he treasures,
Sleep better than Heath Ledger beneath a dream catcher,
So I suggest you pray to G.O.D, bless yaâ,
Like a good Muslim on his knees facing east Mecca.
- Álbum:
- Fightin Words
- Liar & A Thief
- The Foul Play Mixtape
- Vengeance Ascending
- Overload 2: A Tribute To Metallica (Various Artists)
- Subterraneal Magnitude
- Excisions Of Exorcisms
- Chaos In Hell (EP)
- Miscellaneous
- Liar and a Thief
- Foul Play Mixtape
- Supreme Evil
- Infinity Through Purification
- Metal for the Masses, Volume 2
- Destruction of the Heavenly Realms, Volume V
- In the Eyes of Death IV
- Overload 2 - Tribute to Metallica
- Destruction of the Heavenly Realms, Vol. V
- Total Overload: Tribute to Metallica - 2 CD Set
- Destruction of the Heavenly Realms, Volume VI