what we got here yeah yeah what we got here
canibus here.. westwood here.. check it out

gimme a bomb.. westwood.. gimme a bomb.. ring the alarm.. who writes the song..

they wanna c what i look like
read what my books like
gimme a mic just to c what i bus like
welcome to can i bus night
various emcees square off in a ring with a hung mic
focus on em thru the gunsight
the microphone arena is real life u only get 1 stripe
rip your face off with a ape claw
look at the crowd and say i hate ya'll
is this what u want?
and say is this what u look like?
i don't battle no more
i've seen mos def, mau maus
gave em a pound and then i stepped
i've seen dame dash in a club on blast
brushin of dirt that nigga should have brushed of cash
i'm in london, a whole lot of ass out here
big dogs like me in the smash out here
jeymes samuel, tim westwood the way that we do it is clear

*jeymes samuel sings*

wheels of steel, acoustic sounds and samplers
canibus, microphones and his animal handler
the beast from the east
the bull from the old school
act like nobody told u i roast u
my lyrics is off limits to most of u
yeah what u wanna do?

*jeymes samuel sings again*

nobody move, nobody get shot
can i bus i'm up in your spot
my man westwood we do it like this
two thousand and four the name's canibus

*jeymes samuel giggles like a clown girl on booze*
hold up.. cmon cmon

*jeymes samuel sings*
DOT!!!

let's switch it up one time
lemme blow they mind with another rhyme

we comin for ya
we comin for ya
how u like me right now?

go ahead baby.. u ready u ready?
i'm ready, we ready, we ready

propane in the form of flames spray
when i point the barrel your way
u ever barbecue a piece of meat for a whole day?
seen the smoke clouds a darker shade than charcoal grey?
even when u get to heaven u'll be D.O.A
send em to a place GPS couldn't locate
my mind so great my neck might break from the weight
the robin hood of mixtapes since ninety eight
steal from the real, give to the real
cuz they feel what i make
stash steel in a field over the hill by the lake
don't make me have to go get it
i'll peel the grill of your face
germaine's hell where i package pain for self
son of jerel drink a grand marnier

order men to tie u to the top of your cell
while i stab u thru the navel with a quill
askin u who's ill.. trying to break your will
spinnin the wheel, lower u down knee first on nails
make u shit your self
witness the smell
picture an anal iv feedin u poisonous liquid gels
it's violent but why u gettin all sensitive now?
i'm the real king of battle this is how i get down
can't listen to it, then don't
u spit it fluid, then don't
but i'm the best coming from what the other best quote
some magazines said i was the greatful hope
some washed up bloat who couldn't execute what he wrote
but it ain't over cuz i still find ways to promote
but i managed to float, switchin the coast
make a new ark from oak
build a bonfire and smoke
pounds of dro
pass it back to my man yo jeymes sam
big I CAN yo we up in the jam
i got tim westwood we blaze the hood
from funky budda to
yo bus that maneuver

*westwood comes on and u can hear the hypnitis in his voice*

*regulators beat comes on*

what's that right there..
yeah yeah yeah
what's that right there..

*we all think bis about to kill it... but jada comes on*

wow.............damn

that shit is fire...........he is just too sick