ft Brian McKnight
[Canibus]
Yo, Yo //
To all the female fans that want a backstage pass //
You gotta let me caress your mammary glands, with my bare hands //
The tickets will be there in advance //
Waiting for you in the dressing room, with a half-a-dozen Guinness beer cans //
About to go on stage, with Mr. McKnight //
Kicki
ng it to a chicken, about his height //
Bragging to the girl how I rip mics //
It's a quarter to twelve, and I'm going on at midnight //
Shorty looking at me real bashful //
Like, "Canibus there's something I gotta ask you, can I please see your tattoo?" //
Damn, I feel the hypenitis setting in //
E
verybody questioning, asking if I can get them in //
Time for action, the crowd starts clapping //
Put the DAC in, my man Ron G scratching //
Twenty-two hundred people packing in //
To a venue with a twelve hundred capacity maximum //
Where you at Brian? //
Yo //
To the, tick-tock you don't stop //
Can-I-Bus will blow up your whole spot //
Yo //
I go from being on stage with a lion, to rocking with Brian //
A storm that's hardcore but silent //
I grip mics tighter than pliers with hands //
Turn the club into a giant frying pan //
Put a fireman into a situation with a temperature, higher than
//
He can probably withstand, you understand? //
If you ever try to get fly, you'll get electrified, and fried //
And mess around and get your mouth slapped dry //
You can battle me, and possibly survive //
But you could never see me, and walk away without a black eye //
Word up hop, I got emcees c
alling the cops //
And when the cops ain't trying to see, the cops call S.W.A.T. //
I scar your whole squad with bullet scars //
No holds barred, I'll leave the hassle to National Guard //
Ready or Not, like the Fugees, crews be stepping to me //
But I wipe them all out like Booty //
I'm so unruly,
the police won't say nothing to me //
It don't matter whether they on, or off duty //
I run through a line of brave-men, like X-Ray stoup skin //
And kill the competition to win //
What? //
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