Beasts From The East

[Pre-Intro: Mr. Cheeks]
"The forecast — showers heavy at times
With occasional thunderstorms today, and a high of 89 degrees"
The cops says to me, "Yo, kid..."
"Partial clearing and a low of 74"
Damn! Kghhh!

[Intro: Mr. Cheeks]
Basically, kid
Word, Ren zone, wanna hit?
Queens!
This microphone, I got some of this
You know how many member L.B. Tran get motherfuckin' biz
Along on this track, we got the funk Doctor Spock
Canibus and A+ from far-sized block
Yo, yo, yo, yo, Bink Dawg locks it down

[Verse 1: Mr. Cheeks]
Yo, we come through like bulls, see, ’cause niggas takin' two pulls and pass
Nigga, watch your back once you talk out your ass
I pack a .380 in my stash for protection
Family to raise, the world is actin' crazed
I never thought I'd make it, it was hectic when I scrambled
On point like a knife, I'm takin' life as a gamble
Livin' in the Rotten Apple, yo, where every core is rotten
All my niggas, rest in peace, ya see, you gone but not forgotten
Now my main wifey, deaded shady chicks
Official Lost Boyz since the year of '86
And fuck these crooked niggas, I could kill 'em with the passion
At times, I feel like blastin' in Jamaican Queens fashion
You think you can fuck around, but kid, you just thinkin'
It's over when I'm sober, imagine when I'm drinkin'
Without blinkin', man, I'll tear your crew like pages
I’ll rip you from the backyards, parks and on stages

[Verse 2: A+]
A+ the lyrically superb one
Spittin' rhymes off the top of the tongue to burn ya ear drums
Rockin' shit, make the opposite team call a time-out
Knockin' niggas three times my size out
The crowd loves me, so when I ain't around, they ask for me
I buckle up and catch wreck like a crash dummy
For the fast money, I get up in that ass, money
The fact you tryna test me kinda bugs me
I leave crews fed up, like handicap niggas tryna get up
MC's get wet up with lyrical gun pellets
I blow up the spot when it's time to rock
I speak out my voice box and peak out at a hundred watts
Who wanna cipher? I get dumb!
Word to my mother, the Father, the Holy Ghost and Rev Run
When it's all said and done, I end the service
Concoctin' the type of verses average MC's worship

[Interlude: Redman, Canibus]
Fuck with the lyrical skills, you get killed
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, Big Dog! Turn the track off!
Fuck how you feel
Yo, fake MC's, step to the rear!
Fuck with the lyrical skills, you get...
Yo, real MC's bring this shit Up North!

[Verse 3: Redman]
My style is Milk of Magnesia, clutch the five speed and bust
The more the merrier, secure the area
My La Familia is ultimate superior
We don't jack cars, we jack for aircraft carriers
I bounce like trampolines when I be blowin' the fiends to pieces
Hem 'em like sewing machines and Jesus
When the shadows of the barrel pointin' out my boy Camaro
I get punished like Pharaoh for splittin'
You're better off singin' Christmas carols for Christmas
Because I'm on point like bow and arrow equipment
The president of chicken head conventions
I give you a deluxe Ku Klux lynchin'
I got a headache from the stress, success, not wearin' a vest
5-11 for bein' dirty, court's at 9:30
Yo, Mr.Cheeks! I made this bitch call police
She tried swallowin' a nine piece, forgot the warranty on false teeth
I return like Makaveli on 18-inch Pirelli's
Assault and battery like my palms is Eveready
Sharp as machetes
Matter of fact, I slap for cognac to make the beef heavy

[Verse 4: Canibus]
Canibus brings the sickest drama
Fierce enough to pierce the thickest armor
I smack bitches for tryna suck dick through a condom
Playin' with the mic is somethin' I won't do
My only concern when I approach you.. is to roast you
I smoke you and whoever you standin' close to
And make every man in your crew deny that he knows you
Defeatin' niggas like Seagal Steven
Puttin' MC's in positions to prevent 'em from breathin'
I'll make you question any and everythin' you've ever believed in
By peepin' your deepest secrets like psychic readers
What's the matter with y'all?
I splatter y'all against the motherfuckin' wall with these raw lyrics I catapult
None of y'all got the balls big enough to battle
I go "On and On" like Erykah Badu
A hundred times nicer than the best is
Twice as African as KRS is, who wanna test this?
Fuck y'all! You don't impress me and no one can test me
An MC so ill, I got AIDS scared to catch me
All that shit you poppin' will stop when I put you in a headlock
And apply pressure until I crush your motherfuckin' noggin!
I grab mics and push niggas to the left
So fast, they hearts end up on the right sides of they chests
My hypothesis is that nobody can see this lyrical genius
I got it sewn like a seamstress
But if you wanna battle, I'm down
If you got nine lives, I'll take eight of them off your hands right now!
Step up, and get your neck cut from ear to ear
If you survive, then you can cover your scar with a beard
I'm the illest from Queens to the New Jerusalem Bri-dicks
Anyone who ain't feelin' my shi-dit can suck my di-dick
You need to quit it if you ain't spittin'
More than 50 bars per minute 'cause you ain't in lyrical fitness
Kickin' borin' raps with metaphors that's wack
All of y'all motherfuckers need NordicTrack
To get ya weight up, fuckin' with Canibus you get ate up
Beat down and sprayed up just for bringin' my name up
Been rockin' longer than niggas twice my age
Back in the days, before Bob Marley was rockin' a fade
Before Honest Abe signed the paper that freed slaves
Before Neanderthals was drawin' on walls in caves
I existed in the Garden of Eden, gettin' lifted
Stickin' dick to Eve before she was Adam's mistress
Before Christ created Christmas, I been in lyrical fitness
The Canibus is spittin' 'til he's spitless
50 bars of total sickness, you won't forget this
I'm puttin' every wack MC alive on my shit list!
Verbally vicious, telekinetically gifted
Took you a minute to exhibit that I'm sick wit' it
Now, you tell me who you think is damagin' shit
Goin' once, goin' twice — sold to that nigga named Canibus!
Me and Mr. Cheeks, A+ and Funk Doctor
Hoppin' out the Huey helicopter to suey chop ya!

[Outro: Canibus]
Group Home and Def Squad
'97, nigga!