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 the goetia – canibus


the goetia

[intro: sample]
and there is variation in the -n-logy of where these things have come from
they were created by these giants
they were created by watcher themselves
they can manifest…

[hook: canibus]
‘nothing to prove’, ‘nothing to lose’
can-i-bus busting in the booth
straight out the goetia to eat you
this is the fire breather
‘nothing to prove’, ‘nothing to lose’
can-i-bus and mic club busting in the booth

microphone check one-two, you know what it is//
can-i-bus, still getting biz//
with mics, gas molecules emit light//
i bring delta t.c. squared to the fistfight//
first i developed offence/
then negotiate disarmament from the other side of the fence//
hence, the tetrahedron is a prison for a four headed demon//
i weaken, every time i see him//
fight for my freedom, under the fig tree bleeding//
i create hip hop but don’t need it//
i turn my back on rap like god turned his back on eden//
to return like cat stevens//
for those who believe it, i live it, i breathe it//
i smash mics to pieces, that’s the secret//
i cannot fail, i rock bells//
on the ho chi minh trail to the song of the nightingale//
any artist, can turn a garden into a desert//
but can he turn a desert into a garden?//
that’s where i come in, running, straight gunning//
ready to punish, n-gg- i don’t budge one inch//
f-ck it, double the budget//
n-gg-s turned hip hop to something it wasn’t//
made it hard to love it//
so i come back to conquer with a monster mantra//
my spiritual father is swami vivekananda//
rhymes promote freedom, stabilize the region//
think for yourselves, it’s just like breathing//
the departed hip hop artist regarding the condition of the carnage//
dead farmers i already saw it//
back to the army, back to pathari, tari//
back to the heartbeat, offbeat on a dark street//
comfy aggressive -ssistive training//
haji somewhere waiting, one minute remaining//
satellites counter locating, the bloodbath begins bathing//
we both believe we’re fighting satan//
but we both got the same god, who accepts the same sacrifice//
blood, tears, life//
fine picks and trowels are real i was holding a weapon//
when i was overpowered, there was no alb-m//
thirty minute sessions cleaning weapons, asking myself questions//
about what happened last mission//
radiation isolation, i’m an -sshole but i’m patient for a nurse with nice shaped t-ts//
i’m a poet, my house is a palace//
a small cavernous p-ssage darker than the catacombs of paris//
chateau de canibus, saint germaine sadom-s-ch-st//
i don’t use chains to trap a b-tch//
don’t get distracted, repeat your rap schematic//
over and over until it’s automatic//
my body is a machine, machines need fuel//
two gastro-nasal tubes feed me smoothie food//
the recluse clearly produced//
the abstract schematic you can use over a freshly squeezed gl-ss of pear juice//
right side paralyzed above the waist//
below the waist the left side paralyzed, this a unique case//
it’s a challenge to rhyme great, lost weight//
lost sense of smell and taste, wasting away paying attention to sp-ce//
saying “wait!” open the gate, rusty screwers reverberate//
through the deserted desolate sp-ce of this purgative place//
grimoires of metaphor law make your skin crawl//
‘nothing to prove’, this is lyrical law//