Lyrically I'm bananas

My tongue moves like Hindu belly dancers performin Tantra

I'll blur your vision like slow-setter speeds on the camera

And get up in that ass like colon-cancer

Brain cells hand-picked

Organically enhanced wit third millennium medical standards

My DNA was tampered wit

By genetic engineers wit scholarship grants that studied at Stanford

Canibus to advanced for this

I turn spit to gas vapor then back to spit

Your style is one quarter bull, one quarter horse shit

One quarter garbage and one quarter awkward

Make you nauseas till you vomit

Like the backwards Pharcyde video goin forwards

As I drink the blood of a thousand emcees

I can tell by the taste of the pulp if they was hand squeezed

This is Transylvania, vampire-mania

You should be afraid of my fangs in ya' neck drainin ya'

I was made to buss, made to crush

And mic I touch just disintegrates to dust

I been watchin Rap City since they had the first mayor

Seven years back when DC was swarmin wit secateurs

Before Big Lez, Before Joe Clair, Before Steph Love and them

Before anybody in here

See I been there, done that

The only problem is I had to double back cuz the first album was wack

A little short comin, less than what the fans wanted

Now I'm back bussin, my new album is disgustin

Bum rushin the bassment wit rhymes blazin in the booth

Forget the pool table and the Playstation

I'm too busy tryin to concentrate

Grab you by the face and lay hands on you like Mase

Cuz when the Saints come marchin in

He'll be flossin in the clothes he bought wit the money from the offerin

Then it's Jim Baker all over again

Till he's back in the studio recordin again -acap