Yo We got off to a cold start, let me warm shit up You're now listening to Can-I-Bus Why would you do that? Your view too black You must have smoked something I used to call Pool Hall crack Put a suit on you, you still look wack Somewhere giving orders from confined quarters, handcuffed to a fag Played the street too much, should have been in a lab Now you sad, mad at who you was fussing with last Life's a bitch, ain't it? Smile, it ain't nothing to laugh Rose hell at show and tell, brought a gun to your class Keep the herb on the dash, ‘cause I'm serving them fast Classic lyrics for that ass, ‘cause the purpose is cash Look I got a couple of photos, of you trying to showboat Before my gun bolt touch your throat, don't talk The microphone shark, tear your bones apart Spread you over your background like bogus art Put the Mots in Art, try to focus on the frozen dart Cold and dark, as a cobra's heart I drink the absinthe raw, no chaser Madness follows me like investigators after Al-Qaeda The metaphor maker, voice like Lord Vader If you love Hip-Hop, I am your savior Rip your mix tape up, and still take a pay cut Me and you in the booth, who you think is going to say something? Remember in ninety-eight when I rung those bells? I'm a chip off the old block, like Uncle L Fuck a bootlace, I'll strap Velcro up Niggas had gun talk, so what? They still didn't show up Fuck around with Bus on the mic, they got no luck Other than that, I don't really know what //