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
You get slumped, 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 Evel 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
P.R.T your funky joint
With proof like nineteen thirty three double eagle coins
'Bring The Noise' 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
Cos 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 sparks 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 new words and spell them for you
Dropping jewels with unpunctuatingly possible sexigonical 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 to 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
Quintangulate 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.net where real emcees perform 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 skullduggery 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