The Ripper Strikes Back
By the middle of March, when the pregnancy starts
In your lady's placenta, that means L just entered
Duct-taped your little bitch ass for frontin
Your four-level crackhead ass ain't hurtin nuttin
Nigga, you want the fame, now you're famous overnight
Famous for getting fucked by a stick of dynamite
You're weak, nigga, you bout to die up in your sleep
The overload of rap will never meet defeat
Pain and agony, I don't touch them zones
Fucking epileptic, lyrical methods is my throne
Blast your 50 pound ass and make you float
You ready and shook, nigga
I wrote the book, nigga
Held down my crown for a decade and a half
Now I'm bout to give your grimy ass a bloodbath
Talk about being broke; nigga, I'm rich
Cause I learned to separate the money from the bitch
Don't hate me because I'm paid
Hate me because I'm everything you want to be
Handsome, young, plus legendary
Talk about Farrakhan
Nigga, you betta call Jesse Jackson for some affirmative action
Chorus:
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Don't ever open your mouth and mention my seed
Talk about my book you bought to read
You know you watch the sitcom, nigga, so stop dat
Mad rapper, but now returned mad actor
Forty-nine pounds, and tryin to be a mobster
Run around town with the Bob Marley imposter
Ask Canibus, he ain't understandin this
Cause 99 percent of his fans don't exist
I'm goin underground and blowin your rep down
Next time save that shit for the Lyricist Lounge
Or a house party, where you can battle some clown
On top of all that, I'll beat your homeless ass down
Heard that convicted rapist on the record too
Fresh out of jail, ass cheeks still black and blue
Tell me bout the things Ear Biter taught you
How to bust a nut or two
(Yeah, that's butta boo)
You be decomposin, but frozen because my title's golden
Steady rollin in a world that I'm controllin
Vanguard awards are for kings who did tours
Climb platinum mountains to pray to the lord
Talkin bout my first and second and third born
Now I got a fourth, Canibus, but he cut off
>From the riches of my empire
I'm like a pimp, who thought he had to retire
But found a new Can-A-Pus to hire
You're hardcore, in sense, like Heather Hunter
But definitely not with the lyrics that drop thunder
Found you in a trash can, hot black cause you scared to bust
Nigga, in Todd we trust
{Chorus}
Now break it down for me
I eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, amateur MCs
Oh, I ain't done yet
You soft as a newborn baby takin a nap
Make my dick hard with that bitch ass track
Where you at, smokin in some one room flat
Suckin off Clef's dick, hopin ta come back
Never that, nigga my styles is unlimited
Yours is prohibited, cause that's attributed
To not knowin your limits and who you need to test
When you step into the house of the Lord and get blessed
Get on your kness, bow down to my degrees
Young slacker, save that demo for Jack the Rapper
You gargoyle, slash Olive Oyl, pussycat
I wrapped up in aluminum foil, ready to boil
I'ma tear the skin off your ass with 10 knuckles
Rhymes was weak, they make me chuckle like a name buckle
You call 'em lyrics, nigga you need to stop
You goin out, aw fuck it, you goin pop
I'll feed you a poisonous verse, so don't try it
No more rhyming, you on a lyric fast diet
Call the paramedic and tell them that he pathetic
His lyrics ain't energetic and sweet as a diabetic
Career'll be over next year, yeah I said it
Look over your shoulder, nigga, that's where you headed
Muthafucka, where's a rhyme when you need it
First rule of lyrical war, never repeat it
You said that same bullshit at House of Blues
Lit the pipe, struck the match, and sparked the wrong fuse
Tattoo, yeah nigga I'm going at you
Stop basing and you can be a role model too
Dis my moms, who's the real rap don
Who rules for 15 years and drops dombs
Who's copped solid gold Grammy's and stayed calm
LL, while you drop verses at niggas proms
Faggot, you better battle number two
Cause number one got his title locked down son
The king of all rappers that ever graced the stage, or the mic
Best that ever did it, I'm wicked
Write a verse then flip it, melt it down to liquid
And drown shorty, fill his lungs until I rip it
Chest bust open, heart burnt and smokin
You see that nigga, son
(Damn L, he was only jokin)
Maneuver, manipulate brainwaves, transform
Your thought process, when my pen gets caressed
Warning, all MC's better retreat
Look at corny busta can't walk down his own street
Better run and get the Fugees (Ohh, La, La, La,...)
Cause I eat, eat, eat MC's
Devour their titles, cause I'm an idol slash icon
And tell Wyclef, don't even turn his fucking mic on
Solider nigga, thought I told ya nigga
Crossover, slam dunk, game over nigga
Solider nigga, thought I told ya nigga
Crossover, slam dunk, game over nigga
{Chorus}
The Ripper Strikes Back
By the middle of March, when the pregnancy starts
In your lady's placenta, that means L just entered
Duct-taped your little bitch ass for frontin
Your four-level crackhead ass ain't hurtin nuttin
Nigga, you want the fame, now you're famous overnight
Famous for getting fucked by a stick of dynamite
You're weak, nigga, you bout to die up in your sleep
The overload of rap will never meet defeat
Pain and agony, I don't touch them zones
Fucking epileptic, lyrical methods is my throne
Blast your 50 pound ass and make you float
You ready and shook, nigga
I wrote the book, nigga
Held down my crown for a decade and a half
Now I'm bout to give your grimy ass a bloodbath
Talk about being broke; nigga, I'm rich
Cause I learned to separate the money from the bitch
Don't hate me because I'm paid
Hate me because I'm everything you want to be
Handsome, young, plus legendary
Talk about Farrakhan
Nigga, you betta call Jesse Jackson for some affirmative action
Chorus:
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Can I bus?
Yes you can
Don't ever open your mouth and mention my seed
Talk about my book you bought to read
You know you watch the sitcom, nigga, so stop dat
Mad rapper, but now returned mad actor
Forty-nine pounds, and tryin to be a mobster
Run around town with the Bob Marley imposter
Ask Canibus, he ain't understandin this
Cause 99 percent of his fans don't exist
I'm goin underground and blowin your rep down
Next time save that shit for the Lyricist Lounge
Or a house party, where you can battle some clown
On top of all that, I'll beat your homeless ass down
Heard that convicted rapist on the record too
Fresh out of jail, ass cheeks still black and blue
Tell me bout the things Ear Biter taught you
How to bust a nut or two
(Yeah, that's butta boo)
You be decomposin, but frozen because my title's golden
Steady rollin in a world that I'm controllin
Vanguard awards are for kings who did tours
Climb platinum mountains to pray to the lord
Talkin bout my first and second and third born
Now I got a fourth, Canibus, but he cut off
>From the riches of my empire
I'm like a pimp, who thought he had to retire
But found a new Can-A-Pus to hire
You're hardcore, in sense, like Heather Hunter
But definitely not with the lyrics that drop thunder
Found you in a trash can, hot black cause you scared to bust
Nigga, in Todd we trust
{Chorus}
Now break it down for me
I eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, amateur MCs
Oh, I ain't done yet
You soft as a newborn baby takin a nap
Make my dick hard with that bitch ass track
Where you at, smokin in some one room flat
Suckin off Clef's dick, hopin ta come back
Never that, nigga my styles is unlimited
Yours is prohibited, cause that's attributed
To not knowin your limits and who you need to test
When you step into the house of the Lord and get blessed
Get on your kness, bow down to my degrees
Young slacker, save that demo for Jack the Rapper
You gargoyle, slash Olive Oyl, pussycat
I wrapped up in aluminum foil, ready to boil
I'ma tear the skin off your ass with 10 knuckles
Rhymes was weak, they make me chuckle like a name buckle
You call 'em lyrics, nigga you need to stop
You goin out, aw fuck it, you goin pop
I'll feed you a poisonous verse, so don't try it
No more rhyming, you on a lyric fast diet
Call the paramedic and tell them that he pathetic
His lyrics ain't energetic and sweet as a diabetic
Career'll be over next year, yeah I said it
Look over your shoulder, nigga, that's where you headed
Muthafucka, where's a rhyme when you need it
First rule of lyrical war, never repeat it
You said that same bullshit at House of Blues
Lit the pipe, struck the match, and sparked the wrong fuse
Tattoo, yeah nigga I'm going at you
Stop basing and you can be a role model too
Dis my moms, who's the real rap don
Who rules for 15 years and drops dombs
Who's copped solid gold Grammy's and stayed calm
LL, while you drop verses at niggas proms
Faggot, you better battle number two
Cause number one got his title locked down son
The king of all rappers that ever graced the stage, or the mic
Best that ever did it, I'm wicked
Write a verse then flip it, melt it down to liquid
And drown shorty, fill his lungs until I rip it
Chest bust open, heart burnt and smokin
You see that nigga, son
(Damn L, he was only jokin)
Maneuver, manipulate brainwaves, transform
Your thought process, when my pen gets caressed
Warning, all MC's better retreat
Look at corny busta can't walk down his own street
Better run and get the Fugees (Ohh, La, La, La,...)
Cause I eat, eat, eat MC's
Devour their titles, cause I'm an idol slash icon
And tell Wyclef, don't even turn his fucking mic on
Solider nigga, thought I told ya nigga
Crossover, slam dunk, game over nigga
Solider nigga, thought I told ya nigga
Crossover, slam dunk, game over nigga
{Chorus}