My worst rap i think lol

I think fast, switch fast, quick fast, quick as

Immigrants say, "No habla ingles", at border-patrol fences

Messin' with Canibus is senseless

Divide my senses by six and you'll end up with triple sixes

And triple the digits mean triple the spirits

My light body to the third power will triple my lyrics

I'm triple the threat, I'm triple my physical flesh

I'm telling you, put your money on me, then triple your bet

‘Cause I won't be satisfied 'til I'm set

'Til I got a triplex out in Tribeca with the skyline effect

Rhyming is the nine-to-five that I manipulate best

Eight hours of writing and memorizing a manuscript

Called "The Biography of Canibus," subtitled "

The Ultimate Guide for Teaching Modern Man How to Spit"

How to tongue-twist, how to enunciate certain shit

How to control your breath, how to make your syllables spit

Y'all niggas ain't listen to Bis, I kill ‘em with shit

I'm wicked with this, I should be selling tickets to this

Paparazzi should probably be taking pictures of this

My fans in the street with signs tryin' to picket for this

Saying, "We want ‘Bis! We want ‘Bis!

We want the rapper with the illest lyrics!"

My dedication and my commitment's beginning-less

I can go four quarters or nine innings for this

Go twelve rounds, play two days of cricket for this

Lead crusades across Europe, like the Christians for this

The notion I'm dedicated is an understatement

My rhymes are out of this world like the Russian space-station

Sneak-attack rappers, grab 'em and slash 'em

Chop their heads off with claws sharper than velociraptors

Hunt 'em, like Jurassic Park actors

But spare Samuel Jackson's life

‘Cause he was the only black one

Action-packed like Shaft, the black assassin

Blastin' the .753 backwards Magnum

Follow me down the road to Damascus

Do not follow these madmen, poppin' ecstasy pills like aspirin

I and I come fe manifest the most high

Drink a gallon of cyanide and still cannot die

Niggas want to lock the ‘Chronicles of Canibus' away forever

And put my book of rhymes through a shredder

Never, I'm way too clever the way I manoeuvre

Beat your ass, like Lennox Lewis did to David Tua

In front of a hundred-million pay-per-viewers

Your career is ruined

Your face will be swollen, like the Benihana Buddha

Bring it to ya, prove you're a loser

Beyond the length of this rhyme you have no future

Pounce upon you, like a puma or some wild cougars

In the jungle with my adrenaline juices flowing through 'em

I'ma reprogram everything that you're doin'

Hypnotize the audience you perform in front of to start booin'

You're stupid, you and your whole crew are extremely foolish

I can't cipher with you, ‘cause your breath is too putrid

Put your mic down and step away from it!

Shut your motherfucking mouth and don't say nothin'!

You have the right to remain silent

Sentenced to life on Rikers Island for terrible freestylin'