Lyrically I'm bananas
My tongue moves like Hindu belly dancers performin Tantra
I'll blur your vision like slow-setter speeds on the camera
And get up in that ass like colon-cancer
Brain cells hand-picked
Organically enhanced wit third millennium medical standards
My DNA was tampered wit
By genetic engineers wit scholarship grants that studied at Stanford
Canibus to advanced for this
I turn spit to gas vapor then back to spit
Your style is one quarter bull, one quarter horse shit
One quarter garbage and one quarter awkward
Make you nauseas till you vomit
Like the backwards Pharcyde video goin forwards
As I drink the blood of a thousand emcees
I can tell by the taste of the pulp if they was hand squeezed
This is Transylvania, vampire-mania
You should be afraid of my fangs in ya' neck drainin ya'
I was made to buss, made to crush
And mic I touch just disintegrates to dust
I been watchin Rap City since they had the first mayor
Seven years back when DC was swarmin wit secateurs
Before Big Lez, Before Joe Clair, Before Steph Love and them
Before anybody in here
See I been there, done that
The only problem is I had to double back cuz the first album was wack
A little short comin, less than what the fans wanted
Now I'm back bussin, my new album is disgustin
Bum rushin the bassment wit rhymes blazin in the booth
Forget the pool table and the Playstation
I'm too busy tryin to concentrate
Grab you by the face and lay hands on you like Mase
Cuz when the Saints come marchin in
He'll be flossin in the clothes he bought wit the money from the offerin
Then it's Jim Baker all over again
Till he's back in the studio recordin again -acap