Vocab The Heralds of Extreme Metaphors (T.H.E.M.)
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[Verse 1: Webb]
Let me flip it, I'm like a crook when I kick it
I blow microphones like nine double limp-bizkits
I'm wicked, who want to test it? Did you study?
I'll leave the whole god damn battlefield bloody
I'm talented - I walk across the water on my hands
My rhymes contain more information than DNA strands
So bust it, I'll bring it to your nugget
'Cause I'll get ill, like a tap-phone guy when I bug it
I'm rugged, so hit me with a butter instrumental
I'll flip and drop the hell out of a rhyme like a rental
You sore, your whole train of thought will get cut off
But that's what you get for trying to bring it to the door
[Verse 2: Canibus]
About one of these days, you need more than an average MC
I'm like a condom, don't try and do it without me
When I step on-stage to do a show
I'll blow the spot with the bomb squad sitting in the front row
My dirty techniques couldn't be cleaned with bleach
My style is butt-naked, like a nude beach
And everybody get your brew each when we partying
Dressed in black like military frog-men
Free-scholar, prepare to be just like a rottweiler
Even the bootleg tape of me is ten dollars
Listen to what I'm saying to you now
I give my voice-box an oil change every three-thousand styles
Because my styles be using knowledge
And my knowledge be adding up like a tour-bus' mileage
I've been rocking rhymes since slavery was abolished
Rock-solid; you couldn't see me with an open eyelid
Niggas say that I'm wack, but I don't care what they say
I only remember ten percent of what I hear anyway
Now, we can battle anytime, any day
I be watching niggas like David Hasselhoff on the bay
Because I need more energy than my enemies
If I want to make more bills than Bellamy
So I can be on Tele-V
With bitches constantly telling me that I look like Billy Dee
I make fly rhymes to get my name on the the scene
Then when I'm on the scene, I do shows to get the green
Then I take the green, buy a automobile machine
To get that thing on page forty-three of Jet Magazine
Let me flip it, I'm like a crook when I kick it
I blow microphones like nine double limp-bizkits
I'm wicked, who want to test it? Did you study?
I'll leave the whole god damn battlefield bloody
I'm talented - I walk across the water on my hands
My rhymes contain more information than DNA strands
So bust it, I'll bring it to your nugget
'Cause I'll get ill, like a tap-phone guy when I bug it
I'm rugged, so hit me with a butter instrumental
I'll flip and drop the hell out of a rhyme like a rental
You sore, your whole train of thought will get cut off
But that's what you get for trying to bring it to the door
[Verse 2: Canibus]
About one of these days, you need more than an average MC
I'm like a condom, don't try and do it without me
When I step on-stage to do a show
I'll blow the spot with the bomb squad sitting in the front row
My dirty techniques couldn't be cleaned with bleach
My style is butt-naked, like a nude beach
And everybody get your brew each when we partying
Dressed in black like military frog-men
Free-scholar, prepare to be just like a rottweiler
Even the bootleg tape of me is ten dollars
Listen to what I'm saying to you now
I give my voice-box an oil change every three-thousand styles
Because my styles be using knowledge
And my knowledge be adding up like a tour-bus' mileage
I've been rocking rhymes since slavery was abolished
Rock-solid; you couldn't see me with an open eyelid
Niggas say that I'm wack, but I don't care what they say
I only remember ten percent of what I hear anyway
Now, we can battle anytime, any day
I be watching niggas like David Hasselhoff on the bay
Because I need more energy than my enemies
If I want to make more bills than Bellamy
So I can be on Tele-V
With bitches constantly telling me that I look like Billy Dee
I make fly rhymes to get my name on the the scene
Then when I'm on the scene, I do shows to get the green
Then I take the green, buy a automobile machine
To get that thing on page forty-three of Jet Magazine
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