artis: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

lirik lagu poet laureate ii – canibus


yo, why is the ripper so ill? //
that would be an unpardonable breech of confidence for me to reveal //
he said, “one of these days all eyes will be on me //
when they look up in the sky and see the neon ‘c’ //
rhymes inscribed on a nickel disk encased in a gl-ss with an ion beam for longevity //
for more than ten centuries, impressions and memories //
the first time-machine inventor will mention me //
canibus was a visionary indeed //
he believed light could travel in multiples of c //
the organic supercomputer that solved the mysteries of klein-kaluza with two blue metric rulers //
liked cool j but thought steven jay gould was cooler //
and he never liked to propagate rumors //
smoked canary island cigars //
liked american luxury cars and beautiful asian broads //
he had a strong mind //
he used to philosophize about rhymes while he was pruning his bonsais //
he claimed that he had written the greatest rhyme of all time //
but he would never take it out of his archives //
he wrote two songs per day //
and was constantly experimenting with his wordplay //
in his youth he did a report on the sloan digital sky survey //
he got a ‘f’ but he deserved an ‘a’ //
i followed his career from the first day //
it seemed the lack of support contributed to his inert ways //
i’ve seen him put in twenty-four hour workdays //
with deferred pay, undeterred by the worst shame //
public humiliation was the worst pain //
he was spinning out of control like a cl-ss five hurricane //
he said he wouldn’t want another emcee to suffer the same //
especially when there’s nothing to gain //
he was the illest alive but n-body would face it //
he spit ‘til his tongue was too torched to taste it //
properly funded corporations carbon-dated his latest creations //
to extract the information, they found it utterly amazing //
they claimed the body of his work was the same thing as a priceless painting //
never mattered to him the art galleries hated him //
cause thomas kinkade called and said he would take ten //
complete enigmas wrapped in puzzles encrypted in language //
with sound but without shape or signature //
kept files in his garage on ms-dos in a fireproof pod, we thought it was odd //
outside there was a she’d with an oppenheimer lock //
he apparently kept more wax than madame tussaud //
we were in total awe cause it blew our minds //
so many rhymes that were intricately designed //
he was poet laureate of his time //
and if you don’t mind i’d like to share some of his rhymes //
alone in my room looking through the thirty-two x telescope zoom //
adjusting the focus of the moon //
one should not -ssume the philosophy of david hume is nothing more than a subjective conclusion //
what is the maximum field rate application? //
the runaway glaciation surrounding the ocean basin //
affects the population fluctuation on a continuous basis but that’s just the basics //
the juxtaposition of can-i-bus’s position //
the precision of something no other has written //
way above and beyond what was intended //
the unparalleled malleable enunciation of a sentence //
you didn’t go to college, obviously //
i can tell by your ungodly unintelligible terminology //
your remarkable odyssey //
the rhyme’s at modest speeds when the brain orders the body not to breathe //
your competency is not up to speed, you’re not in my league //
you couldn’t possibly be hotter than me //
or oppositely at minus twenty-five degrees //
you’ll squeeze but the condensation makes rifle barrels freeze //
allow me to speak figuratively, n-gg- please //
my intellectual property’s about the size of greece //
your counselor advised you not to speak //
my counselor advised me to keep rhyming until they stopped the beat //
in the words of joseph h-ller, “i learned how to write better,” even though it sort of irked me //
he said he didn’t understand the process of the imagination but he felt he was at it’s mercy //
which exploits my point perfectly //
and certainly reinforces the reason why n-body’s probably ever heard of me //
couldn’t understand what i mean by ‘ill’ //
lest you try to translate what i print to film //
this is the line of will, the circle of time, the cycle of eternity, the emergence of one line //
academic phonetics render critics tongue-tied //
the personified dry humor of c-m laude alumni //
a wise man sees failure as progress //
a fool divorces his knowledge and misses the logic //
and loses his soul in the process obsessed with nonsense with a caricature that has no content //
my style is masterful, multilateral, i could battle a fool and be naturally cruel //
words of scorn are a disastrous tool, from an existentialist’s view i’m a better rapper than you //
grab the mic and rip your physical fabric in two, my att-tude is f-cked up but admirable //
different methods interpreted into different forms //
from entirely different perceptions and seen from different norms //
not just spitting a poem, there’s much more involved //
there’s much more pieces of the puzzle for you to solve //
forty-eight orders of mechanical laws //
and rays of creational cause enhance the cadence of my bars //
maybe i am self-absorbed //
but that’s the effect, to find the cause you should ask my a&r //
today is what it is but only because yesterday was what it was //
permitting you’ve heard of beelzebub //
a tale of demons and drugs, p-ssy drunk in the club //
with the dj doing the needle rub, chances are you’d never see me, son //
yeah, i know my name’s canibus but i can’t help you if you need a dub //
i came to holler at some big booty b-tches and listen to the speakers thump //
where’d you get conceited from? i’m so nice on the mic they want to beat me up //
it’s deep as f-ck, i ain’t seen it all but i’ve seen enough, really unbelievable stuff //
there’s a lot of times when i want to speak but i’m stuck //
i should leave this rap sh-t alone and kick my incredible rhymes in the privacy of my own home //
my imagination is my own, the liberty to speak freely lyrically on the microphone //
with a pen in my hand i bring motion to the enneagram and become can-i-millennium man //
engrave my back with the emperor’s stamp //
been spitting scientific rap since the seventeenth century began //
trying to escape the wicked empire of def jam in the land where lyrics are bland and heretics hang //
every warrior has an ax to bury, but he has to learn to discern between enemy and adversary //
i said to myself, ‘germaine, this is insane, it’s suicide, it’s controlled flight into terrain” //
i fought to regain control the plane but went up in a ball of flames //
and got banned from the hip-hop hall of fame //
for two bars i kept hearing in my head over and over again //
it cost me everything //
i’m convinced now that more than the truth is at stake //
where people create language that pretends to communicate //
euphemisms are misunderstood as mistakes //
but it’s a byproduct of the ghetto music we make //
from an extroverted point of view, i think it’s too late //
hip-hop has never been the same since eighty-eight //
since it became a lucrative profession there’s a misconception //
that a movement in any direction is progression //
even though the potency of it lessens //
big money industries writing checks to suppress the question //
and n-body gives a f-ck no more //
no one goes to the bookstore ever since the confluence of moore’s law //
but i stay in the lab like niels bohr, his son aage, edward lorenz and leo szilard //
lyrically i took rap music and turned the kn-b //
to the right full-throttle and added panache //
why would i argue with my own conscience over the truth //
that’s like me telling myself, “don’t tell me what to do” //
dialyses and -n-lyses of battle emcees, sometimes i say things i myself can’t believe //
my lyrical is so skillfully elliptical, i can understand how it makes you miserable //
you wonder why i never let you play your beats for me? //
and why i keep my studio enshrouded in secrecy? //
you wonder what’s my infatuation with alicia keys? //
canibus, why don’t you speak to me? //
yo, i meant it when i said no one can shine on a song that features me //
that’s why i said it so vehemently //
you need to replace the hate with respect, i’m probably the best yet //
poet laureate! //