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Lyrics » Letter : C » Artist : Canibus » Buckingham Palace Lyrics

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Buckingham Palace by Canibusالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Buckingham Palace by Canibus

     

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Verse 1:

Yo Yo Aye Yo!

I stand outside the gates of Buckingham Palace selling reefer

Puffing a challis with the beef eaters.

Gettin' so high that whenever I drop shit

It'll land on the window of your airplane cockpit.

Canibus with the hot shit "Crazy I. Click"

Niggas is bloody idiots thinkin' that they can stop this.

I'll increase my strength to a super human extent

Nigga your rhyme ain't worth six pence.

And if you can hear, smell, see, touch, and taste....

Then you don't need six senses to feel me punch you in the face.

>From Princeton, to ????? my lyrics invade Europe like Joseph Stalin,

And murder niggas for rhymin'. Spittin fire....

With gasoline filled saliva, drunk as Lady Diana's driver with

reporters

Behind her. Alcohol in the hands of

A minor. I got you panicking like bombs, with 30 second timers.

Clear the building, evacuate women and children....

Fuck what you feelin' nigga I came here to kill 'em.

Straight shittin', from New York to Great Britain,

And when we do shows we make the queen pay admission

What!

Chorus:

Canibus: When I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"

Canibus: Can-I

Crowd: Bus

Canibus: Can-I

Crowd: Bus

Canibus: When I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"

Canibus: Can-I

Crowd: Bus

Canibus: Can-I

Crowd: Bus

Verse 2:

Yo, Yo

Prepare for the worst. This next verse is the face of death

Me without lyrics is like a porn flick without sex,

Illmatic, my lyrical skills are Jurassic

With more flavor then skittles when not digitally mastered.

I go off like a cannon, and blow up the planet with "No Fear"

Like them clothes white boys be wearing.

I'm tougher than denim, lethal like venomous snake bites

The marijuana makes my eyes bright red like brake lights.

There ain't a party I couldn't rock, believe that.

There ain't a microphone brave enough to give me feedback.

I'm strong my word is "Bond" like James,

Niggas be tryin' to test but they "week" like 7 days.

MC's run away when I kick it, they act so chicken

They should come with a large drink and a biscuit.

My styles radioactive, massive atomic, I plan to push the Earth

In Front of Haley's comet. Breaking the "Facts Of Life" down

Like Tudy, I'm raw like sushi, with more vocab, then

Three fucking Fugees. So recognize or be hospitalized

Because lyrically on a scale of 1-10 I'm 25!

Chorus:

Verse 3:

Yo, Yo,

A little bit of weed and some hennesy,

Got me ready to set it with kinetic energy.

See I need much more energy then my enemies

If I want to make more Bill's then Bellamy.

So I could be on MTV, with women constantly telling me,

I resemble Billy D. I make fly rhymes to get my name on the scene.

And when I'm on the scene I do shows to get the green.

Then I take the green by a automobile machine, for

That thing on page 43, in Jet Magazine.

Canibus is the ultimate executioner's dream. Swinging the guillotine.

'cause whenever the head is severed from the human body

With a sharp enough weapon, the brain remains conscious for 10

seconds.

Long enough for me to give you one last message,

And when you get to hell you can tell Lucifer I said it.

Don't ever get it confused. Fuckin' with Canibus the human "rubics

cube"

Like you got something to prove.

Yo, whoever grabs the mic after me'll get booed, and get everything

In the club thrown at you and your crew.

>From moette bottles to bar stools, fruits and foods, if you got a

album

Out you get hit with your CD too.

Runnin' outside, lying, crying, denying that you ain't

The Gay Rapper, but you got fucked by him.

What's the difference, ya'll niggas still ain't in lyrical fitness.

Too busy mixing your business, with your bitches

While I be in the lab composing forbidden scriptures

So wicked, I Satan ejaculating on his fingers

Like Dirk Diggler, in the middle of Boogie Nights

Sniffin' white livin' the hype, he ruined his life.

But I'm a MC of a different type, yeah that's right.

Make sure your shit is right, or I'm a snatch your mic.

Nigga!

Chorus to fade

Writer : DUPLESSIS, JERRY/WILLIAMS, GERMAINE
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

These lyrics are not available for printing.


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