I might do the same too. How the mighty have fallen.
Canibus lost: Can I bus? YES YOU CAN!
- Thread starter Emperor Sol
- Start date
I might do the same too. How the mighty have fallen.
I watched it again, his first 8:30 was aight, before he went into lean wit it rock wit it mode.
Poppa_Dock
:gladlebron:
Emperor Sol
Knowledge and Wisdom
oO J Smooth Oo
All Star
it was one of the saddest things ive ever seen in hip-hop. i cant even listen to his cd's after that because any dope "battle record" ive liked from him has just gone out the window.
GETTINIT23
Rookie
canibus is one of the reasons i started listening to hip hop back when i was a youngin in the late 90's so this is tough to watch....that being said...."peanut butter brown hunny eyes" 
@ReallyReal
504 Soulja
i fux with crazy people......but damn Bis......fux is you smoking dog.....fux kind of pill u poppin......You still one of the greatest MC to ever grab a mic.....but after he watch this back........he prolly shot his self.......certain stuff u leave at home......dude brought with him to the battle.......wrong idea
He Who Posts Well
Superstar
Emperor Sol
Knowledge and Wisdom
I'll never let you live this down, Bis 
oO J Smooth Oo
All Star
Benders bars against Syd
Now months before the King Of The Dot chain was a bungee cord attached to a cutting board
The title was respected and mine was the one that y'all were gunnin' for
Now what's the fukkin' score Syd? You think you on my level a$$hole?
I only took this battle so I could finally tell some fat jokes
Now Sid Vicious was a bass guitar-playing punk that overdosed
Not some big-titted disgrace that Arcane would love to motorboat
But we all know Sid the wrestler is not where you found your stage name
'Cause anyone here can recognize Kamala without his facepaint
So right here is where I start buryin' Syd
This mark loves me more than the mark cares to admit
Bump my CD 'til your car stereo skips
And the bass straight fukk up the hardware in your whip
Pardon me if I start starin' at your t*ts
But that large pair is as thick as the armhair on your bytch
I'm back on my card carryin' barbarian shyt
Finish Sid Vicious, this is a tar heroin hit
And Syd's ex looks like Skrillex, a he-she on some sloppy shyt
You lick the festering infections from the piercings on her bottom lip
Your new girl lookin' tight tho, believe me when I saw her Syd
She broke that piece off quicker than a treaty on the Gaza Strip
Did her homework, offered me dome first
Call me Pangaea, find me on top of your Ol' Earth
Soak the mattress, fukk a Trojan Magnum
My prophilactic could double as a sleeping bag for Tony Madness
I did some down-sizing that's economic Syd, listen up
Feelin' king shyt but I can't hand that pink slip to you cuz
My mood's up and down like the market so if I get in a rut
See who's boss when that depression hits, you the first one gettin' cut
Canadian porno slayer, I chop your corpse into bits
Mail your torso straight from California State to North Decatur Georgia in a storage container player AND I AIN'T SORRY FOR shyt
I smoke a half-soap of that Bath Salts, eat your fukkin' face off the asphalt
And still make it out the bar to get a round for last call
He tried to build a scene to build his name, but can't ignore the very fact
That for all he tried to build, the support is rarely matched
Out in Georgia where he raps, so of course it's very sad
That he's built that up in vein more than his coronary plaque
You stepped to Swave, he knocked you down a freakin' staircase
Soul had you shook like a North Korean air-raid
Now you 'bout to see this Georgia peach go pear-shaped
Think he can hold his own? No he won't, arrividerci
Young Grizzly get rough with me, leave him bear-maced
Buck fifty your gut Sydney, keep the spare change
fukk with me, I'll pull his spine out piece by piece
Spead those discs around L.A. like Machina Muerte
What you thinkin' lettin' Ben spar with this hefty-weight
Walkin' Death Star, heart's a depth charge set to detonate
Monitor his pulse if his breath starts to accelerate
Syd, you feel a numbness in your left arm if you meditate
Next carb you ingest could make your whole system shut down
Say you runnin' blocks, I never bought that story
This man's music is transluscent as Stan Kubrick's moon-landing movie with the flag movin' - Just a fraud recording
If I hear another track of you talkin' greazy on a beat
I will creep up where you watchin' TV with your niece
Gorilla pimp-slap, knock the feces out your teeth
And make you listen to a Hopsin CD on repeat - for a week
You make my skin crawl like scarab beetles from the withdrawal of a heroin needle
Rip that maraschino cherry out your chest, there is no equal
That Tarantino's rare cerebral nightmarish inherent evil
I will ride up on Syd faster than a fukkin pair of Speedos
He came to run his bytch mouth the way I expected
I came to take this fukk n' bytch out like a radio edit - CUT
Oh let me guess, he got that high-caliber wide aperture scope
Might blast, catch a five-inch diameter hole
So the flight path can find fragments of skull on the bike rack in your home
Before shinin' the black light on the crime after he bolts
Is he really good to hook up those arms deals?
Or is Syd pretendin' he Rickey Henderson - on what bases you think he pullin' that hard steal
See I can break all that down into a bar that's far more simple
Any gun he talks about is artificial like a starter pistol
Show me where this man stores the chrome
I'll put that four-pound to my head like the Zack Morris phone
Unless you auditionin' for the hologram of Heavy D
Check your voice before I slap the bass out like Geddy Lee
Anything that he try to tell your people, disregard
Syd is sweeter than my great-grandmother's Christmas Cards
This beluga couldn't lift an arm to let the whistle spark
Sid the Kid is hard? I ain't feelin' shyt he spit so far
Think you're sharp? Get ripped apart with scissor parts and mirror shards
I'm pitchin' darts, mirror shards, prison bars and lit cigars
Fifty shards of pickle jars, a shiv I carved from willow bark
Six-alarm chilli farm pepper spray and scimitars
Fishing barbs, flat serrated Patrick Bateman business cards
Head on Santa Monica, limbs behind the Kwik-E-Mart
Just discard 'em with the garbage downstream on a river barge
Or ditched in Rip Griffin Park before missing parts
When I whipped his parts between a titty bar and a shipping yard
You're the only one left in Grindtime now that the cloud burst
They told me put a nail in the coffin - I'd have to dig it out of the ground first
Drect couldn't sell that channel for a dime of weed - how'd y'all dive so deep
Grindtime went from a dynasty to a dying league in dire need
To a dried-up scene to one guy uploading bum fights with dial-up speed
Behind a dumpster Digging through some Crates, NO DIAMOND D
The title was respected and mine was the one that y'all were gunnin' for
Now what's the fukkin' score Syd? You think you on my level a$$hole?
I only took this battle so I could finally tell some fat jokes
Now Sid Vicious was a bass guitar-playing punk that overdosed
Not some big-titted disgrace that Arcane would love to motorboat
But we all know Sid the wrestler is not where you found your stage name
'Cause anyone here can recognize Kamala without his facepaint
So right here is where I start buryin' Syd
This mark loves me more than the mark cares to admit
Bump my CD 'til your car stereo skips
And the bass straight fukk up the hardware in your whip
Pardon me if I start starin' at your t*ts
But that large pair is as thick as the armhair on your bytch
I'm back on my card carryin' barbarian shyt
Finish Sid Vicious, this is a tar heroin hit
And Syd's ex looks like Skrillex, a he-she on some sloppy shyt
You lick the festering infections from the piercings on her bottom lip
Your new girl lookin' tight tho, believe me when I saw her Syd
She broke that piece off quicker than a treaty on the Gaza Strip
Did her homework, offered me dome first
Call me Pangaea, find me on top of your Ol' Earth
Soak the mattress, fukk a Trojan Magnum
My prophilactic could double as a sleeping bag for Tony Madness
I did some down-sizing that's economic Syd, listen up
Feelin' king shyt but I can't hand that pink slip to you cuz
My mood's up and down like the market so if I get in a rut
See who's boss when that depression hits, you the first one gettin' cut
Canadian porno slayer, I chop your corpse into bits
Mail your torso straight from California State to North Decatur Georgia in a storage container player AND I AIN'T SORRY FOR shyt
I smoke a half-soap of that Bath Salts, eat your fukkin' face off the asphalt
And still make it out the bar to get a round for last call
He tried to build a scene to build his name, but can't ignore the very fact
That for all he tried to build, the support is rarely matched
Out in Georgia where he raps, so of course it's very sad
That he's built that up in vein more than his coronary plaque
You stepped to Swave, he knocked you down a freakin' staircase
Soul had you shook like a North Korean air-raid
Now you 'bout to see this Georgia peach go pear-shaped
Think he can hold his own? No he won't, arrividerci
Young Grizzly get rough with me, leave him bear-maced
Buck fifty your gut Sydney, keep the spare change
fukk with me, I'll pull his spine out piece by piece
Spead those discs around L.A. like Machina Muerte
What you thinkin' lettin' Ben spar with this hefty-weight
Walkin' Death Star, heart's a depth charge set to detonate
Monitor his pulse if his breath starts to accelerate
Syd, you feel a numbness in your left arm if you meditate
Next carb you ingest could make your whole system shut down
Say you runnin' blocks, I never bought that story
This man's music is transluscent as Stan Kubrick's moon-landing movie with the flag movin' - Just a fraud recording
If I hear another track of you talkin' greazy on a beat
I will creep up where you watchin' TV with your niece
Gorilla pimp-slap, knock the feces out your teeth
And make you listen to a Hopsin CD on repeat - for a week
You make my skin crawl like scarab beetles from the withdrawal of a heroin needle
Rip that maraschino cherry out your chest, there is no equal
That Tarantino's rare cerebral nightmarish inherent evil
I will ride up on Syd faster than a fukkin pair of Speedos
He came to run his bytch mouth the way I expected
I came to take this fukk n' bytch out like a radio edit - CUT
Oh let me guess, he got that high-caliber wide aperture scope
Might blast, catch a five-inch diameter hole
So the flight path can find fragments of skull on the bike rack in your home
Before shinin' the black light on the crime after he bolts
Is he really good to hook up those arms deals?
Or is Syd pretendin' he Rickey Henderson - on what bases you think he pullin' that hard steal
See I can break all that down into a bar that's far more simple
Any gun he talks about is artificial like a starter pistol
Show me where this man stores the chrome
I'll put that four-pound to my head like the Zack Morris phone
Unless you auditionin' for the hologram of Heavy D
Check your voice before I slap the bass out like Geddy Lee
Anything that he try to tell your people, disregard
Syd is sweeter than my great-grandmother's Christmas Cards
This beluga couldn't lift an arm to let the whistle spark
Sid the Kid is hard? I ain't feelin' shyt he spit so far
Think you're sharp? Get ripped apart with scissor parts and mirror shards
I'm pitchin' darts, mirror shards, prison bars and lit cigars
Fifty shards of pickle jars, a shiv I carved from willow bark
Six-alarm chilli farm pepper spray and scimitars
Fishing barbs, flat serrated Patrick Bateman business cards
Head on Santa Monica, limbs behind the Kwik-E-Mart
Just discard 'em with the garbage downstream on a river barge
Or ditched in Rip Griffin Park before missing parts
When I whipped his parts between a titty bar and a shipping yard
You're the only one left in Grindtime now that the cloud burst
They told me put a nail in the coffin - I'd have to dig it out of the ground first
Drect couldn't sell that channel for a dime of weed - how'd y'all dive so deep
Grindtime went from a dynasty to a dying league in dire need
To a dried-up scene to one guy uploading bum fights with dial-up speed
Behind a dumpster Digging through some Crates, NO DIAMOND D
Emperor Sol
Knowledge and Wisdom
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yooo someone needs to get on that
can we get a Canibus smilie of him wit the matrix glasses swayin lookin like ray charles with the evil grin