Tim Westwood Freestyle

Lyrics

[Intro: Wyclef Jean] [Verse 1: Canibus] Yo, yo, yo, I look directly into human eyes to see if you pussy And completely ruin your ability to lie to me Now you can stand in front of me lookin' real silly Or prepare to go to battle, and kick a rhyme to me I pull a nine on a bully, cock back the cannon Goddamn it, I don't think you fully understand it Ask 9 out of 10 people on the planet Who the best is, the question will go unanswered 'Till I step up, to the front line with rhymes Revin' my engines like they was powered by Le Mans Murderin' niggas with lyrics manufactured within my DNA's Double-helix, I'll leave you in troubled spirits I'm absolutely the purest, from the USA To Europe, because I deserve it Let me pass it to my man Wyclef W-Y-C-L-E-F, yo, there's no contest [Verse 2: Wyclef Jean] Yo, the W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef There's no contest, about to put 'em to rest The primary purpose to this text Is to present techniques, and guided 'um a practice To cause boxers to um, forfeit MC's who's focused, Wyclef too accomplished AAH, I'm throwin' clones in the Hell pit Vocabulary comprehension study Readin' in critical analyzin' Techniques that enable DJs to interact with my material Westwood, play it on your turntable Scratch it if your able Characteristics, circumstances Will determine how long you live Mr. [?] Actress I aqua-snatch gats from kids with pack back Who lack raps, and rap to get quick dap [Verse 3: Canibus] Yo, yo, yo, my lyrical inertia rips holes through the fabric of universes With rhymes three times the density of what the Earth is I carry lyrics for niggas who carry burners You against me is like a lighter against a furnace Knockin' niggas out and knockin' niggas off For comin' around the way with them lugs that look like clogs Check the astrophysics of these lyrical lyrics Comin' to digits too big for niggas to count on their fingers Check the hype shit, blow up a mic shit, you might get Beat the fuck up in broad daylight with a nightstick Mentally advanced, ever since the brain transplant Canibus recieved the Fugee's jacket from Tex Anne [Verse 4: Wyclef Jean] Yo, yo, now check it out 1, 2 for your brain, here we go, yo, yo One take, I make the Earth quake Let the hater's debate, I walk away with the sweepstake I won the lotto, check out the lingo Me, and my micro, more chips then bingo You still S-O-S-O, your crew got no ammo I'm not a communist, but I get guns from Castro Whether in trio, a rockin' solo Give up my chain 'cause you thought I was dolo Uh oh, uh oh, yo he about to be zero Send him back to real underground like Barbito Play that kid out like Michael's brother Tito Then lay low, in London with the ladies speakin' 'Spanol So [?] banner who [?] on my scanner My grammar slammer any crew who choose to do [Verse 5: Canibus] See, physically I move at a velocity, that'll break your stopwatch if your clockin' me My concrete jungle is like Jumanji But iller than what you seen in the cinema A five-foot-eight nigga with more horsepower than twelve cylinders My brain consists of twin Pentium chips That's double the clock speeds of a 5-86 Nothin' about my physical matrix is basic I kick flavor beyond what your tongue is capable of tasting You'll be so surprised, you won't believe your own eyes It's like a Jamaican seeing the snow for the first time Rhymes of a sort to distort space, and time It's like, explaining color to a man that was born blind One of a kind, I got divine chromosomes in me My sperm will scramble the eggs in a woman's ovaries 'Cause I'm as original as it gets And I can't respect cats that copy like double-Dex I get vexed when crab niggas bite my style 'Cause I'm sellin' a thousand records per day, per square mile Breakin' the laws of physics with metaphors and lyrics Speaking to dead poets by conjuring up they spirits From Shakespear to Edgar Allen Yo, the whole Dead Poet Society couldn't mess around with the talent Much less understand it I make tightrope walkers at the circus lose their balance when I kick the planet [Verse 6: Wyclef Jean] Yo, yo, yo pick up the pencil, raps must be crucial Thoughts go blank, yo, 'cause you couldn't bank The 8-ball back to the corner, back to the corner Pocket, mock it, jock it, but like Jimi Hendrix you couldn't hear it No hard feelin', villain, this ain't your everyday rapper The name Wyclef, I'm about to get dapper When I whistle, uh, two dogs by my side Plus a black pistol, uh, loud MC's SH! Feel the silence, so you still talkin', you cuckoo I send psycho's to the Bellevue you, AAAAH! I'll have you scream too Real live cinema, the streets produce the junkies Pull back on your shirt, you're lookin' like E.T You're cracked out, fo' do', some blow on saxophone We rhymin' off-beat, even with help from your metronome You not an MC, see you a CM Common motherfucker rhymin' 'bout lexuses, and benz Same Benz you got jacked in (Yo, change the beat nigga!) Change the beat, change the beat, change the track (Yeah, change it to, "We no soldiers, we don't die, there's no lie in the NA-NA-NA!) [Beat change] [Verse 7: Canibus] The secret of the ages, I illuminate with logic What I speak, it's more than just deep, it's bottomless With common sense, I'm organized like crimes in mafias Plus the way I rhyme is Prime like Optimus A rapologist, you could sit and do the knowledge with From GEDs to degrees from Ivy League colleges I politic with any magazine colonist About topics other MCs won't even bother with Rock solid shit like stones and monuments It's obvious the third eye of the obelisk is watchin' us Closely, through a microscope, and a pair of binoculars Ghetto scholars like me who study street calculus I utilize every letter of the Arabic alphabet To touch a part of your body, then let you feel erogenous [Verse 8: Wyclef Jean] Yo, you wanna battle Wyclef, here's the dream Hold my hands and pray at the [?] the king [?] Allah [?] Raheem You don't got knowledge of self, so you don't know what that mean Keep your lights, keep the ammo Westwood, give me the action The battlezone, where I roam in composition Hardcore in London, waiting to see if I break Your first time in jail where you got fucked by an inmate It'll never happen, I'm more balanced like a Libra And if I get murdered, Don't Cry For Me Argentina Pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father Three days I rise like Christ and still sober Now my eyes open, in my hands I got the gatling I'm looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to Satan Fists of Fury, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry I turn Mr. Roger's Neighborhood topsy-turvy Foes and enemies meaning the same in the dictionary This ain't Pictionary, all you see is the cemetery Bodies from World War I and II is there You don't want a third war, that's nuclear warfare Canibus count the stash, making fast, illegal money Turns legal, you're running a laundry-mat You're hunchbacked and wack raps you pack in your backpack You're better off in DC with the Mayor smoking crack This ain't a diss, ha, Wyclef bomb threat Run out of the building or get blast in your Guess TEC for TEC, or we can go text for texture Oh, I forgot, you don't read, BLAOW, take this hole in your chest Hide the gun yo, it's a homicide When the DT shows up, they thought it was a suicide Suicide, it's a suicide Canibus grab the mic, and represent with your third eye [Verse 9: Canibus] I drink a gallon of the ginseng extract Harness all my lyrical power to rip tracks I shed light upon pitch black, so at times Even your third eye finds my rhymes too bright to glimpse at I think back to before I was born When suckers wasn't even involved in this art form Now they write rhymes to reflect nothing but hard times While I be on America Online Electronically mailing my thoughts across the information highway Trying to communicate wit y'all way Discovering shit, to make a nigga bug I speak a language that don't even require the tongue Raps carry the impact of a sawed-off Get in my face and your liable to get yours blown off I'ma show off, everyone up North knows I'm the best LL couldn't bring it to me if he had my home address Much less defeat me, you must be taking steroids And not eating your wheaties, and smoking crack instead of beadies Step into the ring, I put you through pain you've never been through Torture will force you to tap out so I don't have to pin you You see my style will get in you like an injection Lyrical ooze causin' rap crews to become X-Men Infecting MCs with a disease there's no cure for No man can withstand a Canibus metaphor I freak a rhyme 'til your sampler stops counting bars And delegate laws as if I'm God So call me arrogant if you want to But the Canibus creates cyphers niggas can bring a lighter and a blunt to Uncle Sam wants you, but he don't want me Because lyrically I'm too advanced for you average MCs My field of forces, bigger than twenty golf courses Eerie like government theories behind flying saucers I go on and on and on for hours Until batteries die then I switch to auxiliary power It's no soldiers, there's no lie We don't die in the NA-NA-NA [Outro: Wyclef Jean & Canibus]