(Canibus)
Yo, yeah "Die slow"
You niggas better "Die slow"
All you could do is die slow nigga "Die slow"
All you could do is die "Die slow"
Fuck y'all "Die slow"
"Die slow" "Die slow" "Die slow"
(Canibus)
You against me? No contest, my tongue hydraulics
Strong enough to flip a sixty-four Impala with three adult passengers
And a four-hundred pound driver
And drown you in less than an ounce of your own saliva
Rubber-faced rappers get
Stretched like elastic Claymation characters with verbal vernacular
Slapping you like a white-water rafter or an Olympic kayaker
Paddling across the Niagara
My afterburners should be burning you after your body's already been splashed with acid
And you turn into ashes
Assassins camouflaged in the grass blasting
Leaving blood all over your lady like Jackie Onassis
I fly your body out of Dallas
Perform plastic surgery while we're airborne and switch caskets
Then lie to the masses
I tell them that you got murdered over some East-West beef between rappers
Radio stations'll express they sadness
Play classics back to back and pass out ‘stop the violence' pamphlets
Just imagine, every night your girl's fucking your best-friend
While you're in Hell, throwing tantrums
I be lamping in a mansion, somewhere out in the Hamptons
Giving some pretty-ass bitch a spanking
Nigga you can't win, I'm laughing ‘cause you a has-been
You can't get your groove back, so don't even bother asking Angela Bassett
You'll just get your ass kicked, get your head chopped off, and dropped in a basket
My left arm's taken but my right one's free
That means I can diss another motherfucking emcee
With rhymes that appear clearer than liquid crystal
My lyrical is more visual than television screen pixels
I fire pistols, hit you with miniature missiles
Riddle your body with holes, then watch the blood trickle
You probably had no idea what you was getting into
‘Cause on the mic, Can-I-Bus is invincible
Fuck you
(Break)
"Die Slow" through out the convo)
Hey Yo that nigga got an attitude
Yeah he be acting rude
And he's always tryna battle you
That last album was terrible
When he's on the radio he never got a clean mouth
Yeah everytime he freestyles, his words be gettin' bleeped out
You got the album?
Naw I heard it was weak
You got the album?
I said it was weak
But the shit don't come out till next week
Hey Yo I like the nigga's beats
Yo that shit be coming bugged out
Hey Yo that nigga Bis dumbs out
He waited too long to come out...
(Journalist)
To you bitch niggas who talk a lot, but walk the block in halter tops
Left side of ya chest, mark the spot
That's where a nigga put it, when I'm hooded
Then fill you up wit big bullets, prepare you for some channel 6 footage
Know what is, me and Bis running through your courtyard
Creeping wit a four-five and reaching for your door knob
Throw a gun under ya chin, see how quick your whore rise
One shot could have a short slide, right out the North side
Your whole flow is porkrine, spit the small oints
I'm nasty, but my small joints grip the bar point
Drop on top of the blue line.right beside the red one
Keep the flow fairsome, 'til the day my career done
Bring it to your ass if you the challenging type
Especially those surrounding the mic, sounding alike
To the Journ, y'all ain't no suitable spitters, true to you niggas
Lay you out on MD's, recouping ya liver
Shouting my name, ya best to control the noise soldier boy
Or homicide will be all over you poys with Polaroids
(CONVO 2)
("Die Slow" through out the convo)
Yea, yo that nigga Journalist gets busy yo
I heard he's from Philly yo
I seen him in Bis video
He's so skinny though
Now he's rolling with Canibus?
I don't even understand his shit
That nigga sounds like an amaetur
Yo i heard Jay manage him
Yo he got some heavy gold shit
Man, that's some old shit
Yea yo the niggas that he roll with
Probably let them hold it
He got alotta Benji's
No he don't
Everytime, when i see him in the back of The Source
He looks
Writer(s): Tyrone Fyffe
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