Can I rip it? //
Can I rip it? //
Can I rip it? //
Well, I’m gone! //

My brain races to create these lyrical mosaics, like paintings //
To me, record stores and art galleries are merely the same thing //
I feel like I’m Rembrandt and my man Van Gogh is a Mason //
Canibus is not some average rap patron, have some patience //
I went through changes not being with the majors and all //
‘Til my man Louis Lombard gave me a call //
And talked about some other way to cake off //
I thought, hmm, I could make more? He said, “Sure //
I could put you in about three thousand stores and get at least fifty thousand orders //
Maybe more ‘Bis. Who knows your fan base is enormous” //
Well of course, look who I’ve toured with...Wyclef //
I didn’t sell twenty million ‘cause it wasn’t my time yet //
I’m satisfied with the lineup I’ve rhymed with //
Kool G. Rap, Pharaohe Monch and Rakim //
Including future superstars I’ve worked with thus far //
Like Free from ‘106 and Park’ //
You need to understand something, ‘Bis is raw //
Raw to the floor, raw like ‘Reservoir Dogs’ //
And mechanical mandible jaws split you in half //
Addicted to ripping jackers but I’ll rip a jackass //
Before we battle there’s two questions I have to ask //
Are you carrying any firearms and did you pack your bags? //
Cool, ‘cause I’m gonna make you feel real bad //
And I’m gonna make you so mad that you’ll probably spaz //
I can see you trying to get me like they got Biggie //
Somewhere in the city on a pretty day when I’m dressing jiggy //
And I’ve got security with me //
I’ll give you a buck fifty so quickly you won’t even notice your nose dripping //
So much blood on the floor you might as well be pretending to be mud wrestling //
A dozen bitches P-M-S-ing. Sounds kind of tempting doesn’t it? //
Dissing me wasn’t really worth it, was it? I’m buggin’ //
I know a lot of ya’ll loved it and tried to convince the public to say, “Fuck ‘Bis!” //
But just think, I played ya’ll like a bunch of puppets //
You played Russian Roulette with a musket and got busted in your own nugget //
A Twenty-one Gun Salute with no bullets and no trumpets //
While the rain pours and the storm thunders //
Your rotting carcass smells so pungent it turns my stomach //
Attracts the buzzards and Fox Eyewitness News coverage //
Rip the Jacker’s on the loose in London //
He slipped through U.S. customs and flew to Dublin //
Frontin’ as a janitor in a school or something //
Working for little or nothing, I’m warning you don’t trust him //
He’s a complete risk to the American public //
And don’t ever call the law ‘cause he thinks he’s above it //
Let’s get one thing straight //
You can’t touch him, outsmart him, out muscle him, or out hustle him //
You can’t beat him? Join him. You can’t join him? Fuck him! //
Can-I-Bus //
Either you hate him or you love him //

Yeah, Yeah //
I seen you at Ruby Tuesdays with a toupee //
Talking on your two-way, you look gay //
Nigga, I don’t give a fuck about the games you play //
I’ll gnaw on your bones ‘til my teeth turn blue-gray //
Or turn yellow like I ain’t brushed in a few days //
And the blood starts to taste like red toothpaste //
Nigga, this ain’t communion and that ain’t Kool-Aide //
Delicacies the F.D.A. won’t approve in the states //
Like a little witch’s brew in your vanilla latte //
Or perhaps fillet of dog in a Malaysian café //
If I was a cook I would probably take a half day //
Clock out and never come back, you keep the back pay //
That’s some metaphorical shit, are you happy? //
Is that why you weirdoes are all attracted to me? //
Look at yourself, why you even listen to me? //
Listen to yourself, you’re constantly dissing me //
Well, listen to this, bitch. Get off my D! //
If you don’t think I’m the illest, that’s cool. I don’t agree //
I’ve proved myself time and time again //
Rippin’ mics like Heinikens, who want me to rhyme again? //
You could never expire the fire within //
Killing me with a gun is easy, try a pen //
For the use it was intended //
I don’t like to be the one to start the drama nigga, but I know how to end it //
Kill yourself, I’ll take the credit. Get it? //
You see, that way things couldn’t work out more pleasant” //

Lyrics submitted by p609

The Rip Off song meanings
Add your thoughts

No Comments

sort form View by:
  • No Comments

Add your thoughts

Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.

Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!

Back to top