Who Shot Ya Freestyle (DJ Clue)

I'm faster than leopards running across the vast desert
At 22 yards per second to catch me the daily delicatessen
With 30 minutes to eat 'em, 40 minutes to digest 'em
And 50 minutes for it to pass through my intestines
So ask yourself a question: Can the Canibus rhyme?
Is a fuckin porcupine half swine?
No time to make up your mind, you wanna run or die?
Clip you while you running by, trip you up from behind
My rhymes confuse niggas like somebody tryna gangbang
Wearin a blue shirt and red pants
Throwin up signs with their left hand, standin out on the corner at Wetlands with a confederate flag for a headband
God damn eggplants, y'all gettin me vexed man
Cause I'm surrounded by garbage like Fred Sanf
And I can't seem to get away from it, I dreamt that I stabbed Leviathan through the stomach and ate from it
In my past life I slayed hundreds, in the life before that
I played trumpets to warn you that I was comin
There's one billion ways to die and I already tried
Nine-hundred million nine hundred and ninety nine
When I aim and fire my rhymes like a hundred cannon balls flying
Striking you one at a time in a parallel line
While the art of emceeing is steady dying
Canibus and Journalist bringin the rhyme

You against me.. No contest
My tongue hydraulics
Strong enough to flip a 64 Impala with 3 adult passengers
And a 400 pound driver
And drown you in less than an ounce of your own saliva
Rubberface rappers get, stretched like elastic
Claymation characters wit verbal vernacular
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker, paddlin' across the Niagara
My afterburners'll be burnin' you after
Ya' body already been splashed with acid
And you turn to ashes
Assassins camouflaged in the grass blastin'
Leavin' blood all over ya' lady like Jackie Onassis
I'll fly ya' body outta Dallas
Perform plastic surgery while we airborne and switch caskets
Then lie to the masses
I'll tell'em 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 ya' girls screwing ya' best friend
While you in hell throwin' tantrums
I'll be lampin' in a mansion somewhere out in the Hamptons
Givin' some pretty ass bitch a spankin'
Nigga you can't win
I'm laughin' cause you a has been
You can't get ya' groove back
So don't even bother askin' Angela Bassett
You just get ya' ass kicked
Get ya' head chopped off and dropped in a basket
My left arm's taken but my right one's free
That means I could diss another muthafuckin' emcee
Wit rhymes that appear clearer than liquid crystal
My lyrical is more visual than television screen pixels
I fire pistols, hit you wit' miniature missiles
Riddle ya' body wit' holes then watch the blood sprinkle
Ya probably had no idea what you was gettin' into
On the mic, Can-I-Bus is invincible

Yo, yo, ayo, nobody can flow with Bis, rock a show with Bis
Or go toe to toe with Bis, none of y'all can coexist
We livin' in an Ice Age and its cold as shit
A hundred thousand dollar price range, niggas is frozen stiff
All I know is this, my felt tip hotter than hell get
A hundred eighty-six thousand miles per sec can melt flesh
Give a nigga a tan
Aerosol cans expand and explode in my hand
While I promote that new Canibus jam
Niggas feel it underground with stalactites hangin' from the ceiling

Live and direct

The illest emcee, and I possess the ability
To run at top speeds without bending my knees
I destroy shit, pinpoint astroids at orbit
Then hurl y'all thousands of miles per hour towards it
Goddamn heathens, grab my hands around your neck region
Then i start squeezin till you stop breathin'
You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues
I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain
You’ll probably never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you rhyme sick? i leave you lyin stiff
Pull you behind my horse til i break ya spine, bitch
Stop cryin bitch, before i hit ya wit the iron fist
You can’t rhyme bitch, the one triple nine’s mine bitch
The pain’ll make ya voice change octaves
From low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
We judge mc’s by they lyrical fitness
And punish dj’s for puttin corny stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper bitches for askin for my autograph and pictures
You’ll be scared to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back, i’ll scratch your’s bitch
I’ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood

Now on some battling shit, my verbal lateral grip
Keeps my tongue glued to the A-Dat when I'm tracking em swift
Let my spit lubricate the chap on my lips
And make you rappers have fits cause I'm back in the mix
Fuck a pad and a pen, write rhymes on a IBM
Ebonics is dead, the binary language is in
Canibus practices in a room with a thousand candles lit
Meditating on this rap shit
Because my freestyle reigns sovereign
With a deeper conscience than the prophet Muhammad was born with
My brain cavity is enormous
My left hemisphere alone harnesses all of the seven chakras
While the right one harnesses darkness
The type of dark that makes a house haunted
The type of dark that niggas get lost in
The type of dark you fear when you dead in the coffin
I hear you talking, but I ignore it
Cause it's garbage and your rhyme's boring
So keep standing on the corner
The trash man will collect you in the morning
Thug cats fronting, wacker than Blinky Blink
On the back of the wack ass Wagon babbling about nothing
Nah black, real hoodrats can get it on black
Meet me at The Tunnel where pussy cats get robbed at
Rubber face rappers get stretched like elastic claymation characters with verbal vernaculars
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker, paddlin' across the Niagara
Fake emcees haul ass like they running track
Wherever canibus or rakim at