Beasts From The East

[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, ayo, 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 (Uh-huh)

The fact you tryna test me kinda bugs me

I leave crews fed up, like handicapped niggas tryna get up

MCs 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 MCs, step to the rear!

Fuck how you feel

Yo, real MCs 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 Bri-dicks

Anyone who ain't feelin' my shidit can suck my di-dick

You need to quit it if you ain't spittin'

More than fifty 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

Fifty 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!