For all Emcees...

duttymonster

deep in the jungle
Messages
379
Likes
0
#1
the illest lyrics of all time...


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 ‘till 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 manuscript//
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*t//
How to control your breath, how to make your syllables spit//
You niccas ain’t listen to ‘Bis, Idestroy ‘em with sh*t//
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 velocer raptors//
Hunt them like Jurassic Park actors//
But spare Samuel Jackson’s life ‘cause he was the only black one//
Action packed like Shaft, the black[..]assin//
Blasting the .753 backwards Magnum//
Follow me down the road to Damascus//
Do not follow me these madmen, popping extacy pills like aspirin//
I and I come fi' manifest the most high//
Drink a gallon of cyanide and still can not die//
niccas 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 maneuver//
Beat your[..] 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’ma 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 fu*king 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 rumor 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//
‘Till 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//
‘Till 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’ma 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//
 
Last edited by a moderator:

dizzzeejungle

Junglist Down Under..
VIP Junglist
Messages
836
Likes
11
#2

Word up son, word
yeah, to all the killers and a hundred dollar billas
(yo I got the phone thing, knowmsayin', keep your eyes open)
for real niggas who ain't got no feelins
(keep your eyes open)
(no doubt, no doubt son, I got this, I got this)
(just watch my back, I got this first, yo)
check it out now
(word up, say it to them niggas, check this out it's a murda)

[Prodigy]
I got you stuck off the realness, we be the infamous
you heard of us
official Queensbridge murderers
the Mobb comes equipped with warfare, beware
of my crime family who got nuff shots to share
for all of those who wanna profile and pose
rock you in your face, stab your brain wit' your nosebone
you all alone in these streets, cousin
every man for theirself in this land we be gunnin'
and keep them shook crews runnin'
like they supposed to
they come around but they never come close to
I can see it inside your face
you're in the wrong place
cowards like you just get they're whole body laced up
with bullet holes and such
speak the wrong words man and you will get touched
you can put your whole army against my team and
I guarantee you it'll be your very last time breathin'
your simple words just don't move me
you're minor, we're major
you all up in the game and don't deserve to be a player
don't make me have to call your name out
your crew is featherweight
my gunshots'll make you levitate
I'm only nineteen but my mind is old
and when the things get for real my warm heart turns cold
another nigga deceased, another story gets told
it ain't nothin' really
hey, yo dun spark the Phillie
so I can get my mind off these yellowbacked niggas
why they still alive I don't know, go figure
meanwhile back in Queens the realness is foundation
if I die I couldn't choose a better location
when the slugs penetrate you feel a burning sensation
getting closer to God in a tight situation
now, take these words home and think it through
or the next rhyme I write might be about you

Chorus:
Son, they shook...
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
scared to death, scared to look
they shook
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
scared to death, scared to look

livin' the live that of diamonds and guns
there's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds...earn funds
some of 'em get shot, locked down and turn nuns
cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones...shook ones
he ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one...shook one

[Havoc]
For every rhyme I write, its 25 to life
yo, it's a must the gats we trust safeguardin' my life
ain't no time for hesitation
that only leads to incarceration
you don't know me, there's no relation
Queensbridge niggas don't play
I don't got time for your pretty thinking mind
son, I'm bigga than those claimin' that you pack heat
but you're scared to hold
and when the smoke clears you'll be left with one in your dome
13 years in the projects, my mentality is what, kid
you talk a good one but you don't want it
sometimes I wonder do I deserve to live
or am I going to burn in hell for all the things I did
no time to dwell on that 'cause my brain reacts
front if you want kid, lay on your back
I don't fake that kid you know I bring it to you live
stay in a child's place, kid you out o' line
criminal minds thirsty for recognition
I'm sippin' E&J, got my mind flippin'
I'm buggin' think I'm how bizar to hold my hustlin'
get that loot kid, you know my function
cause long as I'm alive I'ma live illegal
and once I get on I'ma put on, on my people
react mix to lyrics like Macs I hit your dome up
when I roll up, don't be caught sleepin'
cause I'm creepin'

Chorus:

Son, they shook...
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
scared to death and scared to look
(he's just a shook one)
they shook...
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
scared to death and scared to look
(we live the live that of diamonds)

they shook...
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
scared to death and scared to look
they shook...
'cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks, crooks..

livin' the live that of diamonds and guns
there's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds...earn funds
but some of 'em get shot, locked down and turn nuns
cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones...shook ones
he ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one...shook one

Yeah, yeah, yeah
To all the killas and a hundred dollar billas
To real brothers who ain't got no feelins
G-yeah, the whole Bridge, Queens get the money
41st side (he's just a shook one)
keepin' it real (you know)
Queens get the money...

it aint nothin' son..
its all good...
you know what im saying...
(Talk fades out)
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Top