Can I Bus lyrics

by

Diddy


[Intro]
Yeah
It's therapist
The golden child
Yeah
Peep what I'm saying
Yo, yo, check it, yo

[Verse 1]
Yeah you cats is fly but your plane is crashing
You came and passed, my range blasting
I came slashing, same fashion that OJ stabbed him
My brain's packed with more lines than caine addicts
These insane raps should stay wrapped in a Straitjacket
You featherweight class b*tch, don't want mine
That's why your whole squad is telling me "Pick on someone your own size"
I got the whole nine, ain't perfect but I'm border lining
My album come with a surgeon general's warning on it (Sick)
I spit a born vomit, the hot sh*t
Even when I die sh*t, I'll still be the livest
Quit with the nonsense, you hating but you feeling it though
Stepped on stage, got arrested for stealing the show
Stealing the zone, never left it, n*ggas never contested
On a five star scale you get one less then Texas (Get it)
I got narcoleptics, why the whote now
When this sh*t goes down, n*ggas barely show up when I show down
I hold ground, go more rounds than carrousels
And you beating me only happens in fairy tales
You dreaming, mmy pieces is so dope you feinding
That Cole flow you sink when I dive off the deep end
I'm head hunting, heads front but ain't said nothing
So heads up or spill red blood cause your head is gushing
b*tch what, no STD's but still a sick f*ck
You blast from point blank range and never hit once
I'm heaven sent from devilish to Specialist
You n*ggas couldn't make a good impression of wet cement
So throw up the white flag, no need to fight back
Drop your mic, head to the freezer and grab the knife pack
Get your lights snatched, I'm cold as the ice cap
Sold my soul to satan, turned around and stole it right back
I'm jacking dead broke folks cause I'm dirt poorer
I tried to ball but fouled out in the first quarter
Flagrant rhymes, the facts that you proclaiming
Ain't even the same raise as mine taking the same frame of mind
I'm out to shine on any track that I'm hopping on
Change your album name to false alarm, it's not the bomb
The style is off the wall, kick sh*t like Bandhan
Therapist is the man, hands down like a handstand
With a grand flow and my heart had to follow
I'm so ahead of my time I wrote this rhyme tomorrow, what
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