I Gotcha'-Canibus

I Gotcha' Canibus I gotcha! Uh-huh, huh! You thought I didn't see ya now didn't ya? Uh Uh-huh, huh! You tried to sneak by me now didn't ya? Hehehe Uh-huh, huh! Now gimme what'cha promised me GIVE IT HERE, C'MON! [Canibus] Yeah, yeah Yeah, uh, you know it's all terrific Know it's... yo I just wanna see you pump yo' fists I don't wanna hear y'all talk no sh*t I just wanna get on stage and show the gift Show the gift... I'm the type of ni**a that'll click-click ride wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll smoke that lah wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll bust that nine at'cha Spit that line at'cha, hit that fi-i-yah [Canibus] Yo, aiyyo whattup, God? No love? Odd You can't sell crack on the block no more Cause I pulled up, parked, rolled up, sparked Dogs barked, OH SH*T! NARC's I Jackie Chan up the wall and sit in the dark Or go runnin for a jog while I spit in the park My jigsaw still hard, the metaphors remain sharp Give you sharp pains through your brain up your slang box Me and you in the sandbox, with our hands locked Get the same sh*t your man with the broken hand got I bang glock, I been hot Cocked back Mai Ling from Bangkok {??} Mind grow, but the fat-a** can sit up front Your broad that look like trash can sit in the trunk I'ma f**k 'til I break off chunks Break off a big chunk of skunk and take off with a blunt Hit the studio, sometimes I work all day Still change my voicebox oil every 3K Step to the stage, throw a sign to the DJ Everybody screamin out - do what the w**d say! I'm the type of ni**a that'll click-click ride wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll smoke that lah wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll bust that nine at'cha Spit that line at'cha, hit that fi-i-yah The type of ni**a that'll set up shop wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll pace the block wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll pass the block to ya Stash the rock for ya, ni**a I gotcha [DMP] (This is!) The ghetto-a** sh*t for you baby The hood love it, so I gotta give it to 'em daily I'm on the block, like Olajuwon and Ewing I'm a pimp b**ch, by the way, how ya momma doin? Like Rakim Allah, I'm a Microphone Fiend The f**kin Last Dragon like Leroy Green That Mausberg kicks, rearrange your spleen Now you on part of the Handicapped, Olympic Team I got a, deadly disease without a vaccine It's called {Get the f**k outta my face before I let this Eagle scream!} You runnin game, all I'm sayin is where your f**kin team? This that d**e, somebody {??} and let the lyrics fiend I'm livin dreams from a stroke of the pen to get the cream You garbage, I turn the channel when you come on the screen Flow so pure, cause I'm f**kin with raw Suited up, booted up, and I'm ready for war Yo 'Bis, let's get it live, grab the tec-9, what else? [Canibus] The glock 9, and the double-axle forty-five Bend your mental from the beginning to the end It's connected to the beginning like infinity symbols I keep it simple, don't wanna offend you Cause niggaz don't understand what they ain't in to (Misunderstandin, is still a form of understandin) But y'all niggaz don't hear me though I'm the type of ni**a that'll click-click ride wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll smoke that lah wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll bust that nine at'cha Spit that line at'cha, hit that fi-i-yah The type of ni**a that'll set up shop wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll pace the block wit'cha The type of ni**a that'll pass the block to ya Stash the rock for ya, ni**a I gotcha