Canibus - Curriculum 101 lyrics

[Intro: movie sample] Claims are being made That for me go far beyond the available evidence In fact in many cases are contradicted by the evidence And that bothers me [Canibus] Forensic psychologists, Samuel with the brides Explains you probably never understand Jermaine Incoherent speaches, puzzles and pieces The sub-chemical deepness, s** his clan 'til they screeches Realms of heaven and hell Flowing angelic gell strikes with voron leukaemia cells Demons in hell, they call to me, I scream "what can you offer me?" They reply "tecnosaucery" They tell me the meek will never inherit the world Cuz they weak standin' on two 12 inch feet I dream Quashee Canonian dreams when I sleep Peyote leads to snakes with a blood of a priest In the room where the ceiling leaks and crimps in grease Where the living eats the dead and the dead reek Rockbottom transforms human beings to beast Why the f** you think we got canine teeth? It's the optical stimuli of watching men cry I hope I've got time to repent before I die Battle me at the beach if the sea is out of reach Cuz when I speak what's fluid becomes concrete Like a falcon up in the sky, 10 thousand feet Lookin' down at you b**hes lookin' at me Fame shift into 45 degrees, I'm too crooked to see I memorise the books that I read s**in' from the breast of knowledge, constantly weaning Unforseeningly a genuis without meaning Try to visualise what happy Houdini was feeling Handcuffed under water without breathing Near d**h on a fatal quest for air But why should anyone care? He put himself there His career was based on facing the stares To take destiny from the hand of the man upstairs He didn't mind the cold stares he got from his peers They couldn't tell him where he was goin' or how to get there It's better to be prepared and fail than be scared and unsure of yourself and still get k**ed Don't rhyme like I used but I've still got sk**s More than a couple confirmed k**s under the belt Huntin' MCs like huntin' Elk Camouflaged in the dense bust of stealth determined his health I don't do this to anybody except myself Stuck with motherf**ers like the trophy on my shelf f** the promo, n***a I do this for dolo Flow from the first album, the 24-0-0 Round the clock launce, I got a cup of coco When I be a no show with my girl fives don't go And she give me blow more than 2 times on the row And I'd rather chill with her than k** you with a rhyme that I wrote Count how many mics that I smoke minus the gold Bust dope, my battlin' average higher than most When I'm on the mic I release fire from throat If you disagree please do it quietly folks Anybody better than Bis must be a hoax Black man NO, what about the great white ho? What? Man you must be sniffin' the great white coke Don't you that's like Gary Comb, I'm fightin' a hulk Still not even quite that close A great mic fight in ya rubber dingi boat 50 miles out from the coast What the f** is the maddness with you I beat you black and blue, then I give the tablet the true Better yet I put a tattoo of me on you A 10 by 10 ceelo go neon blue The most theatrical MC battle of all time I rip jackers like you, you know my call sign k** a cobra, stick hooker over behovin' Motorise auto gyros with sycamore rotors Hydrogen peroxide, gaseous vapors Technically these words shouldn't even rhyme off paper In theory, for every soul that can hear me I'ma blaze them In practical practice my style's even greater Can't you see what I'm spittin'? Can't you here the difference? Compared to me you're energetically inefficient You need ten times the enzymes to process one of my rhymes You got to rewind every one of my lines Do you know how to paraphrase? Do you even understand what the narrator's tryna say? The climax explodes, nobody can force out of my flow Figurably the language is too dope Academic journals print my lyrical quotes They show parallelism in all the albums I wrote On any track I come off strong automatically Whether I write interactive or pa** the capacity Poetry that I spit is autonomous to cliff written on tablets of clay mortar mix, superb Truly superb, an*lyse the words It's like I'm jerkin ya birds fly above the earth The Eye of Horus, the miniature tour ride within the giant tourist With singularity on the chorus I still sound enourmous Borderline, insanity tryna break you through humanities border With a new curriculm every quarter I'm the pawn of the pawner with the secret mic world order Baptise you with Jamaican White Rum and water If you got a hundred bars then I know you a warrior I'll be the one that award ya, pinch the medal on you Dedicate a song to you, cuz not in autoble You want a record deal Explain the lyrical grande unified field so I can test ya sk** Do it in front of the cla**, chart diagram it and write it in latin Not spanish god dammit, step back so I can look at it "da dad dad ada dada", ah what the f** is that wack sh**? Crumpsy and dumb like a hand with five thumbs Work for the Mic Club, Curriculum 101