Die Slow lyrics

by

Kurupt


[Intro: Canibus, Canibus & Journalist]
Yo! Die slow!
Yeah! Die slow!
You n*ggas better die slow!
Uh! Die slow!
All you can do is die slow, n*gga, die slow!
Die slow! Die slow! Die slow! Die slow!
All you can do is die slow!
Yea!
Die slow! Die slow!
f*ck ya'll!
Die slow! Die slow!
Die slow, n*gga
Die slow!

[Verse 1: Canibus]
Yo, yo, you against me.. no contest
My tongue hydraulics strong enough to flip a 64 Impala
With 3 adult passengers and a 400 pound driver
And drown you in less than an ounce of your own saliva
Rubberface rappers get stretched like elastic claymation characters
With verbal vernacular
Slappin' ya, like a white water rafter
Or a Olympic kayaker paddlin' across the Niagara
My afterburners'll be burnin' you after ya body already been splashed with acid
And you turn to ashes
Assassins camouflaged in the grass blastin'
Leavin' blood all over ya lady like Jackie Onassis
I'll fly ya' body out of Dallas
Perform plastic surgery while we airborne and switch caskets
Then lie to the masses
I'll tell 'em that you got murdered over some East West beef between rappers
Radio stations'll express they sadness
Play classics back to back and pass out "Stop The Violence" pamphlets
Just imagine
Every night ya girls f*ckin' ya' best friend while you in hell throwin' tantrums
I'll be lampin' in a mansion somewhere out in the Hamptons
Givin' some pretty ass b*tch a spankin'
n*gga you can't win, I'm laughin' cause you a has-been
You can't get ya' groove back, so don't even bother askin' Angela Bassett
You just get ya' ass kicked
Get ya' head chopped off and dropped in a basket
My left arm's taken but my right one's free
That means I could diss another muthaf*ckin' emcee
With rhymes that appear clearer than liquid crystal
My lyrical is more visual than television screen pixels
I fire pistols, hit you with miniature missiles
Riddle ya' body with holes then watch the blood sprinkle
Ya probably had no idea what you was gettin' into
'Cause on the mic, Can-I-Bus is invincible, f*ck you
[Interlude]
Ayo, that n*gga (Die slow!) got an attitude (Die slow!)
Yeah he be actin rude (Die slow!)
And he's always trying to battle you (Die slow!)
That last album was terrible (Die slow!)
When he's on the radio (Die slow!) he never got a clean mouth (Die slow!)
Yeah every time he freestyles (Die slow!), his words be gettin' bleeped out (Die slow!)
You got the album?
Nah, I heard that sh*t was weak (Die slow!)
You got the album? (Die slow!)
I said it was weak! (Die slow!)
But the sh*t don't come out till next week (Die slow!)
You know I like the n*gga's beats (Die slow!)
Yo that sh*t be soundin' bugged out (Die slow!)
Yo that n*gga Bis dumbs out (Die slow!)
He waited too long to come out

[Verse 2: Journalist]
To you b*tch n*ggas who talk a lot but walk the block in halter tops
Left side of ya' chest, mark the spot
That's where a n*gga put it when I'm hooded
Then fill you up wit big bullets, prepare you for some channel 6 footage
Know what is, Me and Bis, runnin' through ya courtyard
Creepin' wit a four-five then reachin for ya' door knob
Throw a gun under ya' chin, see how quick your whore rise
One shot could have a thought slide, right out the North side
Your whole flow is pork rind, spit your small oinks
I'm nasty, with my small joints gripped to ballpoints
Drop on top of the blue line, right beside the red one
Keep the flow fearsome 'til the day my career done
Bring it to ya ass if you the challengin' type
Especially those, surroundin' the mic soundin' alike
To the Journ, y'all ain't no suitable spitters, shoot at you n*ggas
Lay you out in MD's, recoupin' ya' liver
Shoutin' my name, best control the noise soldier boy
Or homicide be over you poys with Polaroids
[Outro]
Yea, yo, (Die slow!) that n*gga Journalist gets busy, yo (Die slow!)
I heard he from Philly yo (Die slow!)
I seen him in Bis video (Die slow!)
He's so skinny tho' (Die slow!)
Now he's rollin' wit Canibus? (Die slow!)
I don't even understand his sh*t (Die slow!)
That n*gga sounds like an amateur (Die slow!)
Yo I heard Jay manage him (Die slow!)
Yo he got some heavy gold sh*t (Die slow!)
Man, that's some old sh*t (Die slow!)
Yea the n*ggas that he roll wit' (Die slow!) probably let 'em hold it (Die slow!)
He got a lotta Benji's (Die slow!)
No, he don't! (Die slow!)
Every time I see him in the back of (Die slow!) The Source, he look dingy!
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