This is the C-Section
Ripping and repping the lyrical legend
Sending y'all to Mic-Club heaven
This is the C-Section
A lyrical legend
Second to none in this profession
I spit it exquisite and rip it minute by minute, I'm in it to win it
You fuck around with Bis and you're finished
Lyrical menace, I'll strip enamel off of your teeth like a dentist
With a sentence administered from the Executive Senate
Chord progression followed by metaphorical methods
Testing, 1-2-3-4, Testing, Testing
Supreme supremacist, nemesis to competitors
Predators eat intestines of anything they're interested in
Slice you like lettuce and celery stalks severed
Then make an emcee salad out of suckers and sell it
For an expensive percentage with nine-tenths of the credit
Drink Red Bull beverage to increase lyrical leverage
I only give respect to Mic Club members and my own mentors
In the center of my circle where I dare you to enter
This is art imitating life imitating art
Imitating the brain simulating thoughts when I talk
Idealistically I'd spit for free
The stenography of the rhyme is what balances me, challenges me
EA-6B prowlers, superior air power
Fly around us with propulsion that's soundless
Spitting rhymes out by the thousands
Nitroglycerin tablets under the tongue calm me down a bit
Attitude, cynicism and lassitude
Battle you? Come on dude, I should slap you fool
Spit what? I'll leave your lips numb
The friction is so sick, son, your chin will disappear from attrition
Rhythmic high intensity conflict is a given
Especially if it's Canibus that's doing the ripping
The snipping and clipping and the C-Section incisions
With scissors with rubber ergonomic grips for the fingers
Liars for hire with a defense like Jeffrey Feiger
And five polite thugs that work for Mic Club
Hyped up, I tear the mic up my man
And move forward as expeditiously as I can
Ain't nobody in the world like Bis
The nicest with radio telescopic devices saying tight shit
Facially hairless and gregarious, Jamaican-American
Lyricist turned microphone terrorist
Airlift me off the front lines to my therapist
So I can sit in his chair and tell him how much I care for this
This is what they want, this is what they love
To engage in the exchange of ideas and drugs
While I'm in the cut satellite-tracking you rappers
With months of food rations beneath the Catacombs of Paris
Theories of super lattice is super savage
Atomic attack tachometers flash when I punch the gas, Bitch
The farther I climb the harder I rhyme
You've got to face death and survive to feel more alive
The quality of life is an illusion of the mind
Superimposed lines look two-dimensional from the side
According to the size of the C-Section applied
If they say I'm the best after I've died, don't be surprised
I'll C-Section the sky and let my energy rise
At the moment of truth I'll know it's definitely my time
As my soul is squeezed through the sieve
I'll be grateful because I lived, the only drawback is I didn't have kids
To C-Section my beautiful wiz
And see the resemblance of my face in hers or his
Who knows what the future will bring
It stresses me to think, this mic meant everything know it doesn't seem important
Now I've got to follow orders
Defend borders from Maine to California and Seattle to Florida
If I could talk to the Oracle I know what I'd ask her
I'd speak to her about my passions
As the hour glasses turn and my life passes
I'll just wait until I see the Master and I'll just ask Him
Forget it, that's the future and this is the present
A message to anyone listening to the C-Section
C Section Lyrics performed by Canibus are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that C Section Lyrics performed by Canibus is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD