702-386-5397

Yea, yea Can-I-Bus, Mic Club

(Nothin' to prove it's all love)

I bust through like Sputnik 2

This is man's best friend, whoopty-woo

The flag is black, red, and blue

True shoot from the hoopty

Dogs jump out of dooly

But it'll take more than that to move me

Like; wireless mics for tireless nights

Firefights inspire my life, why do I write?

Twenty-year Hip-Hop vet, they perceive me as a threat

They manifest beads of sweat

Examine the blood trail

Squeeze trigger puss drips out of the thumbnails

I smell like gun shells

Polonium, pandemonium with a dose of unknownium

The Soviet Hugo Rodier

Fourth generation roper report

Everything I was taught bore resemblance to my thoughts

The truth and design of the Guggenheim rhyme

Where every line is weaponized then applied

Mob shit, talk it acquisition is sick

I don't miss when I twist the 556

Stand there with arms folded

Firearms make me look large and bloated

("I'ma gonna have to project my voice")

Equipment check, church bells time

("Some of this stuff might get intense")

One more time - Just kill 'em 'Bus

Ain't nobody around to witness nothin'

Heavens devil strangle Hell's Angel with a mic cable

Then J Wells came through

"Yo, the niggaz that use to have a nigga a little nervous was like;

B.I.G., 'Pac, (Right), even Canibus, like Eminem them niggaz use to have me like

If we go at it dawg we gotta go HARD!"

"Yo, the niggaz that use to have a nigga a little nervous was like;

B.I.G., 'Pac, (Right), even Canibus, like Eminem them niggaz use to have me like

If we go at it dawg we gotta go HARD!"

Yea, yo

I support a secure change of custody

Don't trust the beat, trust me Canibus the emcee

Without movin' my neck I turn to the left

Yes I am the best you'll learn to respect

'Til your death, Hip-Hop is the body, you are the chest

I am the vest, we are sworn to protect

This behavioural bomb rewritable radio songs

"What station is your radio on?"

My trainin' is worth millions

Imam death squad rush the building

From the frontline with Prince William

I am Prince William's exercise cover and concealment

Prohibit the media from filming

Never in the moment, always thinkin' of the Omen

I pause soldiers, nobody told them

Inoculate; I postulate not your weight

Drop to your face, the active component will not break

My Omanium friend tried to pay me in Yen

I threw the money in his face and said "Pay me again"

You wanna talk to the kid? Enter this ten digit grid

I'll explain to you what I did

"702-386-5397", call, leave a message

Y'all niggaz can't rap, so why you wanna go and do that?

You move the crowd, I move the map

The defying mad Lion, triumph over the rulers of Zion

Fuck your "Blood Diamonds", I'd rather laugh dyin'

Miners in the mine shaft cryin'

"Apocalypto" from GITMO, I'll clash with the last Mayans

The Sun stone science, the black, red and blue alliance

Jump through the fire, you'd be a fool to try it

The fire suit don't fit, NO SHIT!

My Saratoga suit got a customized grip

With a batwing released for both wrist and both feet

Blazing high, but I don't feel no heat

Hip-Hop's master chief, "Here, have a seat"

In the mic booth where I hang slab the meat

Before, during, or after debrief

I'll crack your teeth, don't talk unless if asked to speak

The Rift Valley Fever symptoms could last for weeks

We call a hell in a cell, watch the bastard tweak

Reach 80° degrees North, 14° degrees East

Beneath the ice sheet lies the Spitzberg Beast

Transmission distorted, injuries reported

Mission aborted, follow your orders, move forward

BRAVO! I fell in love with you Suzanne Malveaux

On the down-low, know you know

She talked to the Canibus man

Code name: "Javelin Fangz"

With "Nothing to Prove" to the rap fans

Could've elaborate further but suffice to say

"God damn that emcee made my day"

He's a butcher, a baker, a vapour box maker from Jamaica

Still talkin' trash to the haters

I'll clash with the graders, this is major manual labour

Beta test the data with blue lasers

Canibus wavin' Alice, it's "Nothing to Lose" in Los Angeles

Suing Hip-Hop for the damages

G-4's, 10.4's, still conscious but not for long

Missile lock-on; stop the song