Canibus - Metaphor Meteors lyrics

Born, raised, corn's what I eat when I graze Served to me on gold trays Sip grape haze, sunny days, ocean waves Always with a bird on those days In the cantina with a canteen of green Yeah, me and my team, they think we from Queens Evisu jeans, white-Nike's with white wings If the recoil springs, the snake-bite stings Bow before what the Great Light brings Lightning makes the sky look stripe-pinned Cranial capacity twenty-five hundred CC You can rap, but you can't see me My emotions echo, I let go into the threshold I grin, my limbs get cold d**h to any and all who disrespect Lyrical Law That's the main motor-jaw protocol Here's my software: load it all Questions? Any time after 11:34 is good to call The graveyard watch, I still believe in Hip-Hop It's just changed so much that it's not The sane: I ask myself, “Am I still Germaine?” Let's not go through that again The name Can-I-Bus, my music career seems stuck But I'm the only one they can trust Shut up, let me ‘bus Rhymes will engulf the Sun, which in turn, will engulf us I called because I had to tell you What to do when your resources fail you Banned from the Internet, can't email you I put it in a rhyme, the details will scare you IQ boosters for iPod computers My job is to preserve yours and my future Special Ops, they fast-rope out of an Osprey I got mustard wings the odd way With God's grace I served Hip-Hop And was not replaced, at least not to my face Now I'm all alone, drinking Petrone From a bowl shaped like Skull and Bones Your man not home, leave a message after the tone No call-back until you ma**acre a poem I exhale weed smoke, built a dream boat in the placebo With Captain Nemo and three hoes Fine little fraulein, soon she'll be all mine I'll pour wine to shorten the foreplay time She turn to me slow like, “Honey, where will we go?” I proposed it was best that she didn't know Verbal psychoneuro, she said, “I never heard of you” Your words are purposeful, I might learn a few Special collection service track down every beat purchased Researchers read my incomplete verses The verses were first-string, left-wing Second-wind, and combined created a third thing My heartbeat ends when the Devil and God become friends The Hip-Hop Tribunal will begin Cry for the crisis negotiator codename: Major Omega Crisis situation in the bodega Gun bolt long as a trombone The weapon itself, big as Mutombo Them n***as was hung practical things like tactical slings LBV retractable springs D-rings pinch my clavicle skin Stay in the underground base, excuse the décor Everybody leave your body armor at the door I drop rhymes like rock-slides The seismic size compromise lives, but not mine I find time to regroup and switch suits While they shoot from a stone proof booth with no roof My flow is the truth, a Hip-Hop glucose boost And everybody else know it too Step forward, touch the speaker, activate the DNA reader Looks like we got us a tweaker Atomic-ganglionic chronic microphone hydroponics With incompetent psycho-content The lone inventor, the experimenter Of a scientific splendor that will always be remembered