Artist: Canibus f/ DZK, Warbux Album: Melatonin Magik Song: Post Traumatic Warlab Stress Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Canibus] I'm the black mutant of rap music, half-human half-Vladimir Putin After plasma transfusion I became Rasputin The master of translucence who lives in a green house Creatin green gas pollution, smokin hash from hookahs Before Lucifer sent me back to the future to smash computers Assassinate classes of students I spare those who show classic improvement Produce magic acoustics, supreme music using dreams so lucid I can visualize my future and chose it, I never abuse it I'm ruthless but Canibus is super illumines You know what? I read the blueprint Sometimes it seems like my +Eyes+ are +Wide Shut+ like Stanley Kubrick Mic Club the Curriculum II, I changed the name cause I ain't in business no more with you-know-who He stole money from Killah Priest too, his name rhymes with Clue I found out the same time as you You know what happens when you come from dishonest roots You put roots on me, I put roots on you "We live in a free country," that phrase is so fuckin funny We know freedom is based off the money Resources to hide behind lawyers, it must be lovely When nobody can touch your lunch meat We brainwashed, we can't get these white collar stains off Poor Bernard Madoff, belongs in the graveyard The stock market trade off, doesn't pay off We get laid off, the country spirals into chaos I'm no genius, I know enough not to trust FEMA Their vaccines give you eczema of the penis The Tuskegee Jesus, verses a sneaky Tuskegee Demon What you gon' do, when you see this? The oldest religions, the coldest magicians Transmittin live from Hell, with heat stroke symptoms Symbicort is a success for those short of breath Got to wait for the next check, cause I can't afford it yet DZK come slaughter the set, tell Warbux he got next Post Traumatic War Lab Stress [DZK] I always open wide like a great white, mouth full of steak knives Chewin through the sewer's main line 'til it drain dry And when you're waist high in waste, I make planned attacks on every last base camp in your wasteland I scheme for weeks and draft designs on how to craft my rhymes like a mastermind Whether young or past your prime, I'll eat you alive Ain't no motherfuckin reason to try, just die RRRAH~! Hope you're ready to run I'll cut the tongue out of my son just to stay number one No one'll ever sit on my throne except my clone replica who'll never be better than what they stole the genetics from Gangbang, the beats we slang language which alleviates your teenage angst and break cages Now we're runnin through the streets with our leash off Eatin all your stray pets shittin on your police cars Cause I'm a beast dog, you don't want no beef punk Hit you with a meat log bigger than a tree trunk I kick the shit that make you pee all on your jeans chump Clean up after my show, better bring a steam pump I fuckin breathe funk, ain't no fuckin Tic-Tac existin that's big enough to clean up this act, you're trippin You cannot begin to comprehend if you cross me the position you'll all be in This isn't battle rap, maggot, this is me with a battle axe swingin through your Cadillac imagine that You fuckin headless metal wreckage in the shattered glass I give a fuck about yo' backpack and faggot ass Dim those lights, I'm kimbo Slice on a mic But I don't lose none of my big pro fights I just bruise dudes twice my size and crews move When I maneuver through 'em smooth they know who's who I clear the room with a sonic boom and nuclear plume You should assume I ain't got a lot of provin to do I'm bring doom to musicians with a feminine groom Kanye West, best believe I'm lookin at you [Warbux] Call it ill by design, that's how to define us Cause in the Warlab believe we got it down to a science This is underground at its finest; the most talented rhymers around Shittin on all of you clowns and cowards who sign us So go ahead you'll have hell of a time Tryin to find a rapper with lines as compellin as mine You talkin 'bout a fellow with the will to confine himself to a cellar developin his rhymes for years that's still on his grind This is Melatonin Magik Y'all wet behind the ears like playin telephone with faggots So let em know, they spendin O's on cellulose and acid Cause heads'll roll, we send 'em home in yellow woven baskets The ninja rap star just explodes on the scene My blades'll cut up your back like a rowin machine It could get ugly if they don't intervene Cause I could make your life flash before your eyes like I'm throwin it beams I'm incoherent or so it would seem No I'm esoteric and don't care if you know what I mean, that's the spirit Cause its apparent if you took half of what passes for lyrics and compared them to mine, hip-hop should be fuckin embarrassed So did you really want to flow with the Gods? I'm too educated, haters couldn't cope with the odds See I studied Biggie and 'Pac, Hova and Nas Paganini and Bach, Beethoven and Brahms You are now in the presence of a master musician I craft my rap with the precision of a mathematician or a surgeon, performin a thoracic incision A magician escapin out of his shackles in prison Before you could even finish saying "Oh my God~!" I'll spit a motherfuckin verse to fill your whole iPod I'm a Rip the Jacker protege Motivated by the golden age of rap back in the older days The incredible little fellow with rhythm and timin on instrumentals The shit I said in a rhyme considered a federal crime like blowin off your head with a nine Anyone with a shred of intelligence could tell it's just ahead of its time I'm too sick, ain't even talkin 'bout the music Keep my fuckin name out of your mouth, need a toothpick? You a little confused like, "Who's this dude?" ("This is a W-A-R-B-U-Xclusive") The underdog, like back in the bible with Noah's arc to entrusted military titles to Joan of Ark to Napolean Bonaparte down to Rosa Parks And the medics attempting rescue, breathin on Owen Hart This fucker 'Bux is the shit So who really gives a fuck if he's bustin a clip in public drunk in the trunk of your whip The diabolical, alcoholical, comically pharmaceutically phenominal product of poppin pills And you are not as ill, check your doctor's bill I'm more dangerous in the streets than a toxic spill Yo this is fifty bars of sickness Consider it a Christmas gift to you 'Bis don't forget this