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"Canibus"
"Canibus"
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"Canibus"
"Canibus"
название:
автор:
жанры: hip-hop, rap
альбомы: Rip The Jacker
Poet Laureate II
автор:
Canibus
жанры: hip-hop, rap
альбомы: Rip The Jacker
рейтинг: ★★★★★ / 4.8 / 831 просмотр
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Yo, why is the Ripper so ill? // That would be an unpardonable breech of confidence for me to reveal // He said, One of these days all eyes will be on me // When they look up in the sky and see the neon C // Rhymes inscribed on a nickel disk encased in a glass with an ion beam for longevity // For more than ten centuries, impressions and memories // The first time-machine inventor will mention me // Canibus was a visionary indeed // He believed light could travel in multiples of c // The organic supercomputer that solved the mysteries of Klein-Kaluza with two blue metric rulers // Liked Cool J but thought Steven Jay Gould was cooler // And he never liked to propagate rumors // Smoked Canary Island cigars // Liked American luxury cars and beautiful Asian broads // He had a strong mind // He used to philosophize about rhymes while he was pruning his bonsais // He claimed that he had written the greatest rhyme of all time // But he would never take it out of his archives // He wrote two songs per day // And was constantly experimenting with his wordplay // In his youth he did a report on the Sloan Digital Sky Survey // He got a F but he deserved an A // I followed his career from the first day // It seemed the lack of support contributed to his inert ways // Ive seen him put in twenty-four hour workdays // With deferred pay, undeterred by the worst shame // Public humiliation was the worst pain // He was spinning out of control like a class five hurricane // He said he wouldnt want another emcee to suffer the same // Especially when theres nothing to gain // He was the illest alive but nobody would face it // He spit til his tongue was too torched to taste it // Properly funded corporations Carbon-dated his latest creations // To extract the information, they found it utterly amazing // They claimed the body of his work was the same thing as a priceless painting // Never mattered to him the art galleries hated him // Cause Thomas Kinkade called and said he would take ten // Complete enigmas wrapped in puzzles encrypted in language // With sound but without shape or signature // Kept files in his garage on MS-DOS in a fireproof pod, we thought it was odd // Outside there was a shed with an Oppenheimer lock // He apparently kept more wax than Madame Tussaud // We were in total awe cause it blew our minds // So many rhymes that were intricately designed // He WAS poet laureate of his time // And if you dont mind Id like to share some of his rhymes // Alone in my room looking through the thirty-two X telescope zoom // Adjusting the focus of the moon // One should not assume the philosophy of David Hume is nothing more than a subjective conclusion // What is the maximum field rate application? // The runaway glaciation surrounding the ocean basin // Affects the population fluctuation on a continuous basis but thats just the basics // The juxtaposition of Can-I-Buss position // The precision of something no other has written // Way above and beyond what was intended // The unparalleled malleable enunciation of a sentence // You didnt go to college, obviously // I can tell by your ungodly unintelligible terminology // Your remarkable odyssey // The rhymes at modest speeds when the brain orders the body not to breathe // Your competency is not up to speed, youre not in my league // You couldnt possibly be hotter than me // Or oppositely at minus twenty-five degrees // Youll squeeze but the condensation makes rifle barrels freeze // Allow me to speak figuratively, nigga please // My intellectual propertys about the size of Greece // Your counselor advised you not to speak // My counselor advised me to keep rhyming until they stopped the beat // In the words of Joseph Heller, I learned how to write better, even though it sort of irked me // He said he didnt understand the process of the imagination but he felt he was at its mercy // Which exploits my point perfectly // And certainly reinforces the reason why nobodys probably ever heard of me // Couldnt understand what I mean by ill // Lest you try to translate what I print to film // This is the line of will, the circle of time, the cycle of eternity, the emergence of one line // Academic phonetics render critics tongue-tied // The personified dry humor of cum laude alumni // A wise man sees failure as progress // A fool divorces his knowledge and misses the logic // And loses his soul in the process obsessed with nonsense with a caricature that has no content // My style is masterful, multilateral, I could battle a fool and be naturally cruel // Words of scorn are a disastrous tool, from an existentialists view Im a better rapper than you // Grab the mic and rip your physical fabric in two, my attitude is fucked up but admirable // Different methods interpreted into different forms // From entirely different perceptions and seen from different norms // Not just spitting a poem, theres much more involved // Theres much more pieces of the puzzle for you to solve // Forty-eight orders of mechanical laws // And rays of creational cause enhance the cadence of my bars // Maybe I am self-absorbed // But thats the effect, to find the cause you should ask my A&R // Today is what it is but only because yesterday was what it was // Permitting youve heard of Beelzebub // A tale of demons and drugs, pissy drunk in the club // With the DJ doing the needle rub, chances are youd never see me, son // Yeah, I know my names Canibus but I cant help you if you need a dub // I came to holler at some big booty bitches and listen to the speakers thump // Whered you get conceited from? Im so nice on the mic they want to beat me up // Its deep as fuck, I aint seen it all but Ive seen enough, really unbelievable stuff // Theres a lot of times when I want to speak but Im stuck // I should leave this rap shit alone and kick my incredible rhymes in the privacy of my own home // My imagination is my own, the liberty to speak freely lyrically on the microphone // With a pen in my hand I bring motion to the Enneagram and become Can-I-Millennium Man // Engrave my back with the Emperors Stamp // Been spitting scientific rap since the seventeenth century began // Trying to escape the wicked empire of Def Jam in the land where lyrics are bland and heretics hang // Every warrior has an ax to bury, but he has to learn to discern between enemy and adversary // I said to myself, Germaine, this is insane, its suicide, its controlled flight into terrain // I fought to regain control the plane but went up in a ball of flames // And got banned from the Hip-Hop Hall of Fame // For two bars I kept hearing in my head over and over again // It cost me everything // Im convinced now that more than the truth is at stake // Where people create language that pretends to communicate // Euphemisms are misunderstood as mistakes // But its a byproduct of the ghetto music we make // From an extroverted point of view, I think its too late // Hip-Hop has never been the same since eighty-eight // Since it became a lucrative profession theres a misconception // That a movement in any direction is progression // Even though the potency of it lessens // Big money industries writing checks to suppress the question // And nobody gives a fuck no more // No one goes to the bookstore ever since the confluence of Moores Law // But I stay in the lab like Niels Bohr, his son Aage, Edward Lorenz and Leo Szilard // Lyrically I took rap music and turned the knob // To the right full-throttle and added panache // Why would I argue with my own conscience over the truth // Thats like me telling myself, Dont tell me what to do // Dialyses and analyses of battle emcees, sometimes I say things I myself cant believe // My lyrical is so skillfully elliptical, I can understand how it makes you miserable // You wonder why I never let you play your beats for me? // And why I keep my studio enshrouded in secrecy? // You wonder whats my infatuation with Alicia Keys? // Canibus, why dont you speak to me? // Yo, I meant it when I said no one can shine on a song that features me // Thats why I said it so vehemently // You need to replace the hate with respect, Im probably the best yet // Poet Laureate! //
Это интересно:Джермэйн Виллиамс (это настоящее имя рэппера) родился в 1974 году на Ямайке. Вскоре после его рождения его отец Бэзил и мать Элайн Виллиамс развелись. Джермэйн остался с матерью и они вместе перебрались в штаты. Постоянные переезды вот из чего состояла жизнь парня, во время этих переездов Джермэйн успел пожить в округе Колумбия и Атланте, в Нью-Джерси и Лондоне. Неуверенный в своем будущем... продолжение
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