Beasts From The East

Lyrics

[Pre-Intro: Mr. Cheeks] "The forecast — showers heavy at times With occasional thunderstorms today, and a high of 89 degrees" The cops says to me, "Yo, kid..." "Partial clearing and a low of 74" Damn! Kghhh! [Intro: Mr. Cheeks] Basically, kid Word, Ren zone, wanna hit? Queens! This microphone, I got Canibus You know how many member L.B. fam get motherfuckin' biz Along on this track, we got the Funk Doctor Spock Canibus and A+ from park-sized blocks Yo, yo, yo, yo, Bink! Dawg locks it down [Verse 1: Mr. Cheeks] Yo, we come through like bulls, see, 'cause niggas takin' two pulls and pass Nigga, watch your back once you talk out your ass I pack a .380 in my stash for protection Family to raise, the world is actin' crazed I never thought I'd make it, it was hectic when I scrambled On point like a knife, I'm takin' life as a gamble Livin' in the Rotten Apple, a-yo, where every core is rotten All my niggas, rest in peace, ya see, you're gone but not forgotten Now my main wifey, deaded shady chicks Official Lost Boy since the year of '86 And fuck these crooked niggas, I could kill 'em with the passion At times, I feel like blastin' in Jamaica, Queens fashion You think you can fuck around, but kid, you just thinkin' It's over when I'm sober, imagine when I'm drinkin' Without blinkin', man, I'll tear your crew like pages I'll rip you from the backyards, parks and on stages [Verse 2: A+] A+ the lyrically superb one Spittin' rhymes off the top of the tongue to burn your ear drum Rockin' shit, make the opposite team call a time-out Knockin' niggas three times my size out The crowd loves me, so when I ain't around, they ask for me I buckle up and catch wreck like a crash dummy For the fast money, I get up in that ass, money The fact you tryna test me kinda bugs me I leave crews fed up, like handicapped niggas tryna get up MC's get wet up with lyrical gun pellets I blow up the spot when it's time to rock I speak out my voice box and peak out at a hundred watts Who wanna cipher? I get dumb! Word to my mother, the Father, the Holy Ghost and Rev Run When it's all said and done, I end the service Concoctin' the type of verses average MCs worship [Interlude: Redman & Canibus] Fuck with the lyrical skills, you get killed Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, Big Dog! Turn the track off! Yo, fake MC's, step to the rear! Fuck how you feel Yo, real MC's bring this shit Up North! Fuck with the lyrical skills, you get... [Verse 3: Redman] My style is Milk of Magnesia, clutch the five speed and bust The more the merrier, secure the area My La Familia is ultimate superior We don't jack cars, we jack for aircraft carriers I bounce like trampolines when I be blowin' the fiends to pieces Hem 'em like sewing machines and Jesus When the shadows of the barrel pointin' out my boy Camaro I get punished like Pharaoh for splittin' You're better off singin' Christmas carols for Christmas Because I'm on point like bow and arrow equipment The president of chicken head conventions I give you a deluxe Ku Klux lynchin' I got a headache from the stress, success, not wearin' a vest 5-11 for bein' dirty, court's at 9:30 Yo, Mr. Cheeks! I made this bitch call police She tried swallowin' the nine piece, but got a warranty on false teeth I return like Makaveli on 18-inch Pirelli's Assault and battery like my palms is Eveready Sharp as machetes Matter of fact, I slap for cognac to make the beef heavy [Verse 4: Canibus] The Canibus brings the sickest drama, fierce enough to pierce the thickest armor I smack bitches for tryna suck dick through the condom Playin' with the mic is somethin' I won't do My only concern when I approach you is to roast you I smoke you and whoever you standin' close to And make every man in your crew deny that he knows you Defeatin' niggas like Seagal Steven Puttin' MCs in positions to prevent 'em from breathin' I'll make you question any and everythin' you've ever believed in By peepin' your deepest secrets like psychic readers What's the matter with y'all? I splatter y'all Against the motherfuckin' wall with these raw lyrics I catapult None of y'all got the balls big enough to battle I'll go On & On like Erykah Badu A hundred times nicer than the best is Twice as arrogant as KRS is, who wanna test this? Fuck y'all! You don't impress me and no one can test me An MC so ill, I got AIDS scared to catch me All that shit you poppin' will stop when I put you in a headlock And apply pressure 'til I crush your motherfuckin' noggin! I grab mics and push niggas to the left So fast, their hearts end up on the right sides of their chests My hypothesis is that nobody can see this lyrical genius I got it sewn like a seamstress But if you wanna battle, I'm down If you got nine lives, I'll take eight of them off your hands right now! Step up and get your neck cut from ear-to-ear If you survive, then you can cover your scar with a beard I'm the illest from Queens to the New Jerusalem Bridicks Anyone who ain't feelin' my shidit can suck my di-dick You need to quit it if you ain't spittin' More than 50 bars per minute 'cause you ain't in lyrical fitness Kickin' borin' raps with metaphors that's wack All of y'all motherfuckers need NordicTrack To get your weight up, fuckin' with Canibus you get ate up Beat down and sprayed up just for bringin' my name up Been rockin' longer than niggas twice my age Back in the days, before Bob Marley was rockin' a fade Before Honest Abe signed the paper that freed slaves Before Neanderthals was drawing on walls in caves I existed in the Garden of Eden, gettin' lifted Stickin' dick to Eve before she was Adam's mistress Before Christ created Christmas, I been in lyrical fitness The Canibus is spittin' 'til he's spitless 50 bars of total sickness, you won't forget this I'm puttin' every wack MC alive on my shit list! Verbally vicious, telekinetically gifted Took you a minute to exhibit that I'm sick with it Now, you tell me who you think is damagin' shit Goin' once, goin' twice — sold to that nigga named Canibus! Me and Mr. Cheeks, A+ and Funk Doctor Hoppin' out the Huey helicopter to suey chop ya! [Outro: Canibus] Group Home and Def Squad '97, nigga!