Yo, Houston to Earth, watch the Ripper crucify you with verse //
My urethra to your uvula quenches your thirst //
Put your flames out with dry desert dirt where leopards lurk //
Lock your soul down with an esoteric weapons search //
Strap a bomb to one of your label’s record clerks //
And activate it as soon as they get to work //
Ring the alarm, red alert nigga it gets worse //
Bypass security networks with select words //
Megahertz make nebulas reverse ‘til your head bursts //
Call the press first and ask them who has the best verse //
Give me the respect I deserve //
If you are what you eat, it’s obvious I can’t eat what I’m worth //
Ya’ll niggas eat pussy and burp //
The other half of ya’ll suck dick ‘til your jaws and your neck hurt //
When you address me nigga, end your sentence with ‘Sir’ //
Critics went berserk, they haven’t even heard my best work //
See I broke into their mind by //
Quietly going by their eardrum walls and hot-wired their skulls //
Yeah, I earned the name Canibus but what did it cost? //
Battle rap is nothing but a serendipitous whore //
Niggas probably like, “What the fuck he dissin’ him for?” //
Yeah, he dissed me first, but you were never informed //
I’m one of the top five nigga, my shit is tight nigga //
You heard it right nigga, I rock mics nigga //
But the limelight isn’t where I belong //
The top four don’t even look in the mirror no more //
If they did, I’d be in the mirror looking back at them //
Ready to grab them, kidnap them and put them on my album //
I rip jackers, rip the time-space fabric //
Loop the future with the past tense, looking for patterns //
Eradicate the Africans that sold Africans to Saxons //
And forced black men to pay taxes //
Attack a wack bitch with counter-tactics //
Split your bullet proof chassis in half with a rapid Gatling //
Keep firing at you ‘til you’re trapped in //
Non-combatants scramble for helicopter extraction //
While I’m back at Fort Bragg, bragging //
How I tortured them faggots and stabbed them with Rip the Jacker daggers //
Slay dragons with old passages from black magic manuscripts //
I found in the cabinet written in Arabic //
Translate the characters one by one like Arafat’s tarot card suggests //
I make terrorist’s threats through your stereo set //
Various anthrax carriers sending sarin to the press //
With an imaginary address, Cani’s the best //
Untraceable, your picture’s unpaintable canvas is wet //
Let me dry you off with some of this fire I spit //
Twenty six years old, nigga look how I spit //
Microphone fiend, since I was like fourteen //
My Cuban uncle used to sell cocaine, Okay? //
I’m reloaded, you’re fucking with the wrong MC //
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease to the whole industry //
Potent as Hennessey that was distilled in Tennessee //
One shot scrambles your memory indefinitely //
Nowadays one hundred bars ain’t impressive to me //
You stepping to me, nigga do it intelligently //
You want to battle? Or do you want to wrestle with me //
You ain’t better than me, you just have an obsession with me //
Canibus hybrid, the cake icing of rhyming //
As I grow old I get colder like the declining climate //
On Earth’s environment, entirely tireless //
Rhymes come from a higherness of wireless dialect //
Scientists from Sirius B designed my specs //
Astrally project during heightened sex //
Chakras connect, doctors inspect what they can’t possibly interpret yet //
That’s why they revert to threats //
They curse and throw fits //
They’re like immature Earth cadets looking like Captain Kirk in a dress //
Lyrically I’ll step on you, Rip on you //
Then I’ll defecate what I just digested on you //
I’m better than you, I’m better than you, I’m better than you //
Just to get the checkered flag I’ll put the pressure on you //
Put the extra effort on you //
Write a mother fucking letter to you and your editors too //
Threatening you //
Detectives check your mail and your Messenger too //
You can take this verbal slashing that I left as a clue //
Execute the type of wickedness the Devil approves //
Which basically means I can do whatever with you //
I’m a rap music mutant with a cool name //
Misconstrued fame but I spit butane //
Blue flames out of giant CO2 tanks //
Demagnetized memory banks, enhanced, advanced //
One of a kind, like modern man’s retina scans //
Quick as a glance and flickers from kerosene lamps //
What do you want me to break first? Your jaw or your grill //
What type of spit do you want from me? Sparkling or still //
Studied law at Yale, draw up my own deals //
So the longer they resist me the stronger I feel //
Spread your ganglia from Tanzania to Flats of East Anglia //
Give up, you can’t keep up //
The man eater in a wife beater spreading typhoid fever //
Through mic receivers with light reverb //
Type in the right keywords, I might emerge //
It takes a really nice nigga to excite these nerds //
Niggas want to see the gully in me, keep fucking with me //
Never under pressure, I keep the pressure under me //
Burn the weed, drop a freestyle on the Internet //
Then watch niggas burn the CD //
Upload a picture of your mom getting DP’d //
I’m one size away from thirteen, believe me she peed //
I’m the illest and it’s going to be that way forever //
Word of mouth is good, but a mouth with words is better //
Nigga, nobody gets sicker than the Ripper! //

Lyrics submitted by p609

Poet Laureate song meanings
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