Canibus - Yale University скачать в хорошем качестве

Canibus - Yale University

Freestyle 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 cunt // 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 pass if you was gassed out of your ass // I'll battle you in front of Sterling Library after class // ___ 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 // Assassin 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 Evil Knievel using a dirty heroine 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, ___ your funky joint // With proof like nineteen thirty three double-eagle coins // "Bring Tha Noize" 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 // 'Cause 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 Sparxx to any Bubba, make him guzzle pig blubber // Do a "Ninja Man" cover, tell you to suck your mother // If I wanted to get at you I'd just infect your lover // Your girl's an exceptionally good sucker // She ain't got no tan, I'll tap that ass '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 the new words and spell them for you // Dropping jewels with unpunctuatingly possible sexugonical 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 kill 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 'till 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 // Quint-angulate 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 dot net, where real emcees preform 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 butterfly, sting like a bumblebee // No seeds yet, so you're lucky there's only one of me // Rip the Jacker's skulduggery 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? //