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CANIBUS lyrics - 2000 B.C.

Life Liquid

Original and similar lyrics
(Blood spillin in the streets!) The what (Blood spillin in the streets!) (Blood spillin in the streets!) The what (Blood spillin in the streets!) [Journalist] Uhh, yo, yo, aiyyo Aiyyo wit two precise niggaz, holdin the right biscuits There'll be a lot of cats leakin out they life liquid Niggaz who actin hard this ain't Columbia Pictures when we throw two in yo' ass while you huggin on your mistress From Philly, where cats quick to mute you at Cuckoo cats, twist back your FUBU cap Crucial black - two chicks to screw you at Then they shove a poolstick where you doodoo at While you checkin on your pagers, weapons in your faces Shot blazin, cops section off the pavement Hoppin out with gauges, prepare for the occasion We throw about eight in, the house that you was raised in Mouthin off fakin'll make you a loud patient Achin, with your arms in a alcohol basin And while your brain's achin I'ma have your dame slavin Cocaine and apron, over a flame bakin Chorus: Journalist + Canibus [J] Niggaz take it for granted - until they layin dead on the granite [C] Innocent bystanders get shot by standin [J] Y'all better duck when you hear the cannon [Both] or y'all be checkin for leaks - Niggas'll leave your blood spillin in the streets [J] Niggaz take it for granted - until they layin dead on the granite [C] Innocent bystanders get shot by standin [J] Y'all shoulda ducked when y'all heard the cannon now you layin deceased [Both] Niggas'll leave your blood spillin in the streets [Canibus] Can you feel it Nothin can save ya Cause this is the season of the infrared laser And since I got time, what I'm gonna do is show you how you can get spotted by one too Cause I don't give a fuck, I just cock back and bust With more arms than an octopus, as if one gun wasn't enough I fuck around and pull eight out Blast your face off or blow your brains out Nigga, I'll leave you laid out Then I pull the gat in my waist out Put it in your mouth and keep squeezin til the whole clip is sprayed out Take the gun in my ankle brace out; shoot you in the stomach till I see the last meal you ate drain out Your face look spaced out, I gut you like a trout Scream my name out while I'm scrapin your rib cage out Squeeze with the index, spray like a bottle of Windex Bullets buzzin by your head like insects From your head to your mid-sec' And I ain't even shoot you in the legs or your limbs or your dick yet Your masculinity is questionable, you probably a homosexual Just the thought of havin a woman lay next to you probably threatens you You probably look at grapes and see testicles You probably fantasize about vegetables like cucumbers and bananas havin sex with you And you probably let gerbels crawl up your rectum too Shame on you; I (*defecate*) on you and simultaneously (*urinate*) on you and pour some acid rain on you I stop your heartbeat with heat You weak nigga, I'll leave your blood spillin in the street Chorus [C] Ayyo Journalist what you workin with [J] Old school burners with barrels big enough for you head to fit in the circle shit What you holdin Canibus [Canibus] 30 bulllet banana clips Just to handle the kick I gotta glue it to my hands and shit We got permits to murder shit We critically injure niggaz who deserve the shit Put em in a tournaquet [Journalist] Bomb proof Suburbans with tractor-tread tires so we can ride through the dirt with it (drive over curbs with it) Merc in it, even over slippery surfaces we can swerve in it (And crash into niggaz who don't deserve they shit) Try stoppin the dudes, you gotta be bruised Cockin the tools that knock you out your socks and your shoes [Canibus] We'll leave you shoeless and keep shootin Look how much life liquid you losin You need a blood transfusion [Journalist] In the back of a medic truck, shots in your neck and gut while we holdin our weapons up, I'm still reppin' Philly - what (Blood spillin in the streets!) The what (Blood spillin in the streets!) (Blood spillin in the streets!) The what (Blood spillin in the streets!) Chorus .. The what .. The what ..

Feelin' Evil

Chino XL "Here to Save You All"
Intro: Yeah To all the real hardcore motherfuckers Soft motherfuckers With the bitches that don't give a fuck! Chorus: Now who wanna diss to get they reps a little _bigger_ How many bitches wanna fuck this _yellow nigga_ You get your whole crew cut like a scissor Watch this world shake from the album I deliver Verse One: I threw a Brownstone at Brandy now she's Changing Faces Standing in my Aaron Hall I'm Blackstreet packin suitcases Goin back to Indiana, on the Subway Soul For Real, missjones is my usher in church on Sundays Clear the runways, cause I'ma make you rappers my examples Avoiding battling me like I'm Eazy-E's blood samples It's me and Carey, nah never wrote no rhyme that's ordinary Won't throw my life away on coke like Darryl Strawberry Removing you skeletal system playing your ribs like xylophones I'm nastier, leave you scraped and ashier than Larry Holmes But ladies I ain't always violent You could pump pump until the dawn, like Adina Howard Can't You See, I'm Notorious as Total get Uptown Girls in bed, like Billy Joel do Laverne and Shirle, give us any room we'll break it Remember you was wack remember Ice Cube had a jheri curl BAMMMMM!!!! Dead on your car horn chump My beat get messy as abortion on the ninth month Now who be that, slap, did iiii do that? Now Whoopi Goldberg goes Steve Urkel but I'll leave your grill The Color Purple Give you a Dogg Pound, could even Dru Down Provoke me album is weak your whole shit sound like karaoke Conversation, loss of limbs amputation Head meaning decapitation rough like Craig Mack derm abrasion Evil tendency, strong like Miles Davis heroin dependency Fuckin up lives like teenage pregnancy Chorus Verse Two: Them clowns like Will Smith got fast cars and fancy homes But I'm headstrong, I could even break Puffy Combs Some kids still doubtin and they girlfriend stalkin keep it real We'll cross that bridge when we come to that Anita Hill Now ever _assed_, will never _last_, with no ghetto _pass_ Leave you breathing hard like bitches at Lemans _class_ Niggaz are slippin when they sippin gin and tonic smokin chronic Jersey niggaz packin more handguns than Harry Connick My style is welfare, half of you bitches is on it!! Was born with a halo, when broke, I had to pawn it I stir up controversy and sell I'm like Sister Souljah So bring out bum-ass Russell Simmons cuz comedy's over The Lucci I'm worth is enough to deficit a nation With media coverage like a hostage situation (yeah and if you lovin them hoes you betta bounce back) Tryin to make that bitch your wife she fucked the whole New Jersey Drive (soundtrack) High like Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jams on tour Rrrraahahrra rrrarhraarah I rips it like a chainsaw Dig deep as truth go ahead and shoot your Karl Kani suit in shock absorbing tired and I'm wide like a police informant Pray with one eye open, shootin more Led than Zeppelin Dysfunctional like the Jackson's, death is my obsession You comin through with thirty cowards think you causin fear Rush lookin bust in your boosted Donna Karan gear Now fuck the po-po, beats down the five-oh Been there, done that, do it again tomorrow nigga Sometimes I vibe inside a spot where nobody else knows me Until I come hot steppin like Ini Kamoze Chorus

Clap Back

JA RULE "Blood In My Eye"
[Intro - Ja Rule] Yeah, yeah.. haha yeah! I gotta get my headphones All my gangsta niggaz is in the building on this one! You know! Yeah yeah ya know It's real!! Hussein what's happ'nin nigga? I see you, aight Shadow what's poppin BLAT!! Haha haha, yeah my nigga O-1 in the motherfucking house Jody in the house (Jody Mack!) My nigga Cadillac, Gotti what up!?! Blackchild what up!?! I'd like to welcome all my niggaz To the world famous Murda Inc. Show Big shout to all my Queens niggaz in Staten Island Niggaz in Uptown, niggaz in Brooklyn niggaz All my Bronx niggaz yeah, all my Jersey niggaz! you know? We doing it real big right here! all my money niggaz This shit commentated on the one's and two's! They call me the Mighty Rule! how ya living? This real shit we talking I wanna ask all my gangsta niggaz a real question (holla back) What do you do - when niggaz spit at you?! [Chorus - Ja Rule] Clap back, we gon' clap back We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back (Let's take 'em to war niggaz!) We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back (Let's take 'em to war niggaz) We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back (Let's take 'em to war niggaz!) We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back (Let's take 'em to war niggaz) We gon' clap back, we gon' clap back [Verse 1 - Ja Rule] Fuck if they holl'in about Rule nigga, here's the real I'll pop ya top like Champagne bottles that chill Wear nothing but ice, smiles tinted up to The Greatest Tell em I'm nice too, plus push them nice grooves The Inc roll like duece man, I'm ol' G Bobby J And we sling at soccer fields the yay They don't respect that, don't get your minds around You'll get it pushed back, y'all don't want that I send em to the morgue while keepin my bitches bouncin fa sho "In Da Club" with no gun, got em taking it off Can't help that, I'm the nigga that puts it down Once I hit that, that's if I'm up in the May (bach) Fasten them holding the throwback, West 44 Lakers Let's make no mistakes, resents take place What's the procedure with a gun in your face When you got one in your waist, let's cock back nigga air out the space! (C'mon!) We gon' [Chorus] [Verse 2 - Ja Rule] The Rule be "In Da Club" rude motherfucker poppin the bubbly When shit get ugly I hug the snub closely But usually we still see your bitches Thats is known for quick shit, trying to ride my dick I can't handle it, lower their manners To get they ass infront of my dick to dance, the bitch want more chance Catching hate from a glance, but I'm a giant These niggaz is mere ants, I'll stomp 'em wit his thang Give bitches the back hand, pimp shit, it's not realistic The game is helpless, let's not get it twisted I'm young, wrapped, and gifted, but still at the bottom And stuck somewhere between Gomorrah and Soddom I'm here to make this rap shit hotter than Harlem Fuck the Dog beware of Rule, cause I'm the problem What's the procedure with a gun in your face When you got one in your waist, let's cock back nigga air out the space! (C'mon!) We gon' [Chorus] [Verse 3 - Ja Rule] Like Bush and Saddam, I'm a find out Where Em Laden's hiding and bomb him first It could be much worse, I could be hotter than yo scrubs Mask and glove, gun hot from burnin ass up I'd rather be bossed up, wit a bunch of broads The preachers daughter screaming out "Fuck the law!" I play a struck chord, wit the Christians But y'all got the freakiest bitches out of all the religions And God gave me his blessings to handle my business All these wanksta snitches, let the nina blow kisses If she some how misses, he gon' meet the mistress And "Clap that boy" like Birdman and Clipse I got these niggaz all over my dick, like hoes I'm the star at these shows, I must be as hot as they come What's the procedure with a gun in your face When you got one in your waist, let's cock back nigga air out the space! (C'mon!) We gon' [Chorus] [Outro] [Ja Rule] Yeah, my nigga 'Zino in this motherfucker [Benzino] That's how we do it, know what I mean [Benzino] Buck '89 what's up baby, I see you [Ja Rule] Break 'em down nigga! break 'em down! [Benzino] Bring them birds, in the motherfucking house [Benzino] It's not a game no mo' [Ja Rule] Queens in this motherfucker [Benzino] You know [Ja Rule] All my Jersey niggaz, all my Boston niggaz [Ja Rule] All my Brooklyn niggaz, Brooklyn sir what up! [Ja Rule] Haha, yeah, holla at me man

Point

SLAYER "Diabolus In Musica"
[Music: Hanneman, Lyrics: King] I'm the one that brings you war Infiltrate unguarded shores Master of afflicting pain Point is where all die [Lead: King] I'm the one to taste your blood Trashing through the crimson mud Messenger of all demise Point is where I reign Piercing, impaling, no judgement, just punishment Discreate, annihilate assault with no regret I'm the one to taste your death Basking in your dying breath Messenger of all demise Point is where all die Piercing, impaling, no judgement, just punishment Discreate, annihilate assault with no regret Born to kill sweep and clear taring down the face of fear Shrapnel flies dehumanize Flesh and blood will ferilize Empty all the magazines Lethal spray form M-16's Pace the march and sing the song Right the fuck where I belong Stained in blood No fear - no sound Penetrate your holy ground Leave you where your comrades lie Point is where all die Pure destruction has begun Fearlessly the battle's won Spread extinction through the dawn Signature of wrath is spawned Minister of death unreleased My lust for war will never cease With no remorse I watch you die Body count's the bottom line Crashing slashing to the end Your final pulse has just been spent Leave you where your comrades lie Point is where all fucking die [Lead: Hanneman] Crashing slashing to the end Your final pulse has just been spent Leave you where your comrades lie Stained in blood No fear - no pain - no life [Lead: King] Clouded skies rain only death Silence all opposing threats Quench the hunger of my gun Exploding cites overrun I'm the one to taste your death Basking in your dying breath Messenger of all demise Point is where all die

Creepin'

REDMAN "Muddy Waters"
All my country, funky, brother, motherfuckers Verse One: To my, no good niggaz, and my, no good bitches Sorry if I left somebody leavin out with stitches Seems y'all too bold for ya britches Enslaved your mind like cotton pickers for runnin wit some rotten niggaz I get raw to the core with hardcore metaphors Resevoir Dog style, truly yours Yes, I be the slug up in your chest Then you wonder why you can't feel the full strength of ciggarettes My nationality is, brutality I got the gun up under your leather nigga so walk casually You'd be surprised how much info you can get For a bottle of crack to find yo' punk ass and yo' kinfolks Plus, that crew you run with is butt I was dusted one day when I made your man choke up Rappers comin to New Jersey and be gettin fucked up Talkin about where they from and shit when dem sons ain't runnin shit and go off a BIT if you do a show in da Bricks You'd swear you was fly and how we bring so much turbulence I keep your nervous level high nigga You better kiss your son and daughter, tell em bye nigga When we creep Verse Two: I give respect to all my woolly niggaz with the Rolex Shinin briquettes, flashin cash and dumpin Moets Especially when my royalty check is late, I don't hesitate I scoop up Keith, and see who's flashin at the Palla- -dium, hide your weed niggaz cause here I come Lookin bummy for low profile, so loud MC's overlook me I slip the bartender some more Just to tell me [how much cash and Dom P you pour] Huh, I should start robbin rappers in the industry If we ain't clickin then I'm engineerin your injuries Forty-eight tracks of automatics and facts Lyrically splat-datted till your mentality blacks And I don't give a FUCK if you did thirty bids Still I bring Ecstasy like I'm the rapper Jaleel Blaow blaow blaow, lickin shots for your fuckin mind, I got you niggaz duckin out like I'm one-time Or five-oh, po-po, I drive hoes nutty Like I be doin security at my live shows Your A amp;R is a punk, he got you gassed when I brutally smash any contender in my weight class Aiyyo Twinz yo this nigga got jewels (hold that nigga while I rob this fool) When we creep

Bad, Bad Man

JOHN CENA "You Can't See Me"
[John Cena] Aww, you done did it now Chaos you shoulda put this one in the vault man! They not ready - they don't know what's comin man! Oh we gonna drop this on 'em right here Y'all ain't ready for this, Y'ALL AIN'T READY FOR NONE OF THIS! Your boy's a bad man, and we invadin the streets Make unclever rappers scurred, they be droppin the heat Shocked the world, now I'm standin alone I flip fools like them clamshell cellular phones You can't help but nod your head to the track Fuck the watered down rap, we be takin it back Give it to me straight - ain't no chasin it Check yourself in the mirror - ain't no facin it Cause you, playin the role and you plannin to fold This the masterplan, we got the planet on hold We all over the streets like your favorite sneaker Breakin up your sound like a drive-through speaker Everything that I be spittin is strong After I rock, fast forward through the rest of the song We the monkeywrench, that's gonna ruin your plan And don't fuck with John Cena - I'm a BAD, BAD MAN [Chorus 2X: Bumpy Knuckles] With the mic in my hands I'm a bad man Even in a fight with the hands I'm a bad man Livin in the streets all my life I'm a bad man I'm a bad man, I'm a bad man [Tha Trademarc] We devils - rockin ambient levels We set loose among hot tunes to instrumentals And cats got one-liners, I drop several And I think it's funny you choose, losin progress or runnin in place; we makin moves, and y'all settle I rip rappers and take responsibility for makin future hall-of-famers look third rate Y'all are lost for words like conversation on your worst first date and ride beats, creep through side streets Looseleaf notepads that's where rhymes leak Punchlines - man, don't even beg I got knee-slappin tracks, y'all brusin your leg You a rhyme writer - funny man, that's a joke You ain't worthy of bein my secretary man that's a quote I flood tracks like cracks in boats And pussy rappers choked up with they own lines in they throat [Chorus] [Bumpy Knuckles a.k.a. Freddie Foxxx] TURN UP THE MICROPHONE and feed me I'm a beast MC's and they beats is what I eat, 16 I'll leave you in the street My rhymes are sicker than gangrene in both feet It's spreadin up the leg, and headed for the head Your rhymes are whack your style is proof that the brain corrosion is fuckin with your chosen flows, I'm nice with mics My hands'll break your nose like Mikey Tyson Fightin in his prime, one rhyme And I shake up the room one time, BOOM! To the jaw Your face is a coat type raw And the blood and snot they mix, jelly on the floor My love is cop them bricks, belly on the floor I rob you, you soft and you really ain't a problem I solve you, 357 long nose revolve you Acid in your face, bad look, dissolve you I'm a bad, bad man Yeah, check it out It's Bumpy Knuckles baby And I want you to say hello to the BAD, BAD, MAN - C'MON! [Chorus]

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