Mic Club: The Curriculum

[Canibus]<br>Yo.. the shottie rip, perferrate the skin on top of ya ribs<br>Red stuff come out his ribs like a Hollywood script<br>Bitch-niggaz on the floor screamin for mommy and shit<br>Cardiologists hook up the heart monitors quick<br>Thermometer temperature dips below 76<br>That`s what you get for tellin niggaz that you better than `Bis<br>Not possible - if I can`t pronounce it, it ain`t rhymable<br>The audible probability probably ain`t probable<br>Supreme rap, G Rap, underground without a rule<br>Shopper proof, holdin hip-hop for hostage, bout to shoot<br>Helicopters stabilized at low altitudes<br>Talkin to the negotiator, layin out the rules<br>In a tight compromise salute, road-block with troops<br>Underwater`s not to shoot, but they break ya vertebrae with boots<br>Ten o`clock news flash, `Bis and G Rap<br>All punch bullets are lookin for them niggaz in black<br>Lean back in the avocado El Dorado, passin the bottle<br>Speakin Japanese like Nomi Masho<br>She got a bangin body, cold sushi with warm saki<br>If I`m rappin sloppy, she got me...<br><br>[Kool G Rap]<br>Welcome to my world, danger and hazards<br>Gang of bastards, bangin they ratchets<br>King and the Jacker, slangin in traffic<br>Claimin they cabbage, obtain half, they aimin for stackage<br>Get brains from the (?), keep blingin with karats<br>Cops see me in Maddox, then let ya dame have it, flames to the attic<br>The stains on ya fabric, the paint in the graphic<br>Canibus and G Rap, bangin a classic<br>And if that beef on the street - hate you enough,<br>blow out ya brain in ya casket<br>Don`t you love this drug element?<br>Where slugs crush ya melon and dome<br>Chrome that`s known to break bones in an elephant<br>Shotgun pellets and, gunsmoke; smell the scent<br>Big bullets, wiggle ya guts like gelatin<br>Cut through ya skeleton, knockage intelligence<br>Ride, stand, and bite the dust<br>Jake wanna be like a Russian cuffed on that Riker bus<br>We raised in the slums, with haze in our lungs<br>Raisin the guns, knowin;<br>My day`ll come, razors under the tongue<br>Clips in the steel, bricks in the wheels,<br>chips in the field of fortune<br>Dead men walkin with hits on the grills<br>Late night at the spot, posted with goons, dope and balloons<br>Coke and the doom, scheme; I`ll leave you open with wounds nigga<br>Witness G Rap put it back in perspective<br>Beat up shit with a dash of the peppers<br>Get blast for ya necklace<br>Leave ya brains on the dash in ya Lexus<br>We up in the club, dash for the exit<br>Make ya spread `em out - show you what this lead about<br>Take it from an old thug, whoever clean cold blood<br>Believe they bled it out (yo)<br>Crave for the war, pop out rages with fours<br>Hit the jackpot, blazin the raw - gettin bands in the pores<br>Bitches and whores with dick in their jaws<br>The frame drank sick of Valor, straight bandit spot<br>Open up shop, turn the block to "Planet Rock"<br>Shit with no chop, slept with the glock with the hammer cocked<br>Servin the fiends, hop in the Suburban and lean<br>Look at that don nigga swervin in Queens, playa<br>Ballin a lot, brawlin for props, callin the shots<br>Hit the curb, birds all on the flock<br>Jockin, like "who that there covered in all of them rocks"<br>It`s royalty bitch, fall on the cock, recognize one<br>Giacanna G Rap, that live one - pay homage<br>Get it fucked up, I spray comments, nigga what?!<br>(Nigga what, it`s the Curriculum!)<br><br>[Canibus]<br>Yo, e`rything is e`rything my nigga<br>I ain`t bitter, but if I gave you the finger it`d be behind the trigger<br>Faggot-ass nigga livin in a gated community<br>Up in radio, tellin them what you gon` do to me<br>I live in the `burbs - clean my Winchester<br>every other weekend with the same dirty Hanes shirt<br>It takes two to tango, three to jump rope<br>Four to bury the body, plus look out for po`<br>Yo I guard everything within the limits of my post<br>My orders is to smoke you if you get to close<br>The whole globe scared of my flow, spirit world scared of my soul<br>Nowadays it`s like I`m scared to be known<br>The methods of my motivation is completely subjective<br>My perception is completely parallel to perspective<br>Rhyming is the reason I spit in faces<br>Habituation of my flamboyance without rational reservation<br>Whiskey, X-Ray, yankee, Zulu, unusual<br>Word-ologically my syllable position is beautiful<br>Only respect niggaz if the feeling is mutual<br>G Rap snatch the tools from you, I`ll throw `em in the crucible<br>Prolly throw you in there too, mix it up and make nigga-stew<br>if you can`t admit I`m iller than you