The Omen

[Verse 1: Canibus] My attitude is to watch and observe the magnitude Is it hostile? What is the next possible move? Wait until the conditions improve Listen to me, dude Don't let it affect your morale, your mission, or your mood Canibus, true lyricist, Mr. Ubiquitous Getting busy for Big Pun and his little one Christopher Little Christopher, big brother Bis take you to the cinema To show you how hardbody Godzilla was, once upon a time Top hip-hop brass, supreme hot beam that ass John Deere in the headlights, leave him in the grass First pass, low-altitude, high-density mass See how my symphony's intensity lasts Hold your breath, cousin Ignite the gas, spit it all out fast Run all night to see if we could outlast They say correlation is not causation But rather a revelation, happenstance of a nebulous nature *Ya tu sabe,* I like to cha-cha in Abu Dhabi With a bad Spanish mommy and Formula One Ferraris With my canine posse eating saltfish and agi Mad-dog with the hobbies standing in line at Hobby Lobby Floridians' scorpion alligator organism Don't even make no sense talking to them Monaco muscles' double headed Doberman no muzzle Bludgeon your face with eight dozen dominoes in a duffle Grab you by the underarms like I wanna snuggle Then treat you like hip-hop when it doesn't love you Sour cherries I spit garlic, a street conflict makin' an omelet Young Pun, Imma make you a promise I stand with you. I stand with G Rap Giacanna The rep hip-hop Thomas, in your father's honor Rest in peace Ruck, hold it down Rockness Monsta Brooklyn Dodgers, every Brooklyn bomber on the roster Say what you say, just give me that shit from RTJ Watch me put a mix out every day From Newark to Hackensack Town, Long Island area and back down It's young Chris and Rip the Jacker now, gimme love [Hook sample] "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." [Verse 2: Chris Rivers] Yo, yo, it's the con of cons Comic-Con type pajamas on A lot of bombs dropped from [?] bionic rap automaton Wiring infused with ivory, I'll scale down your trees My skin rips, turn to loose leaf--blood is fire ink I'm made of this Bank account with steady statement lists Statements paved the pay for payments pace this state of bliss Name is Chris: son of rap gods and amazon I remember trying to flip the green without a salad tong This ain't that killer shit; this that vigilant militant instrument Niggas cinnamon sweeter than drizzled [liniments?] Take your ligaments, break you down like you are some insulin It's been written Mayans predicted this whole predicament Doomsday apocalyptic, with thoty bitches Esophagus with Lots of lipstick, they want my prime, I'm optimistic Not a mystic, this real-deal, holy-feel Banana clips in every bar Spitting 'til your dome is peeled Rivers [Hook sample: "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." x15] [Verse 3: Kool G Rap] K.G.R., Bis, Chris Rivers Niggas piss rivers New York City slick niggas that click triggers My shit hit ya [?] tore ligaments, rip livers Bangin' that nickel 'til bodies wiggle like big strippers My young hitters draw blickers like they was stick figures Shit bricks in your pants, missing your kitty litter From that life to day and night, with the brick flippers Made it clear, it's 1080p--I'm a crisp picture [?] slit your throat, send your bitch witch ya Chasing my notes until I croak, nigga, big figures Lead inaction got a fetish for the letter-stacking I'm at your cabbage, ratchet under the sweater jacket I wear the bastard, and dash past him, with metal blastin' I'm hand-crackin', I lay him flat in a bed of passion Catch him lackin' before he get to the pedal-mashin' Steppin' to me, I let niggas speak to the double-actions No shells missin', I'm Mel Gibson, Beretta blastin' I'm scale whippin' in Hell's kitchen for cheddar stackin' [Hook sample: "Get on the mic, get on the mic..." x15] [Outro sample: "the mic" x8]